“She has a high-paying job and she works out five times a week
she doesnt want a house in the mountains but instead on a beach
and when she knows im stressed she gives me what she feels I need
when I get home from my job the house is always clean
I can’t pretend what we have is working for you and me”
are words your husband should never say…
…. and yet here they are being sent my way.
I pick at my cuticles until the perimeter is completely raw and then when the pain no longer distracts me from the nervousness, I pull at the ends of my hair until the brown, curly strands decorate my fingers like ornaments on a christmas tree.
“Geneva Iris!”
The dean calls my name and my head is a swivel as I pause and look at all of the thousands of people in my graduating class. Then I look down at the six-inch stilletos that I thought made my calves look defined but instead might have been the dumbest idea I’ve ever made, despite my 4.0 gpa my whole entire college career. I stand on shaky legs and walk up the steps as the speaker continues on with all of my impressive achievements.
“Thank you” I give the dean a firm handshake, accept my diploma, and as I go to walk away, the black carpet runway lifts up at the edges and has my heels slipping on freshly polished wood. My knees cave in on each other and my body sways back and to the side in order to recalibrate itself. I look to the crowd and all the blood in my body rushes to my cheeks, pooling with red. I couldn’t stop the swell of tears gathering in my eyes even if I wanted to and as I become more aware that I’m frozen like a deer in headlights on the stage, the dean has still been calling out students names who are now lining up to walk on stage behind me.
I focus all too intensely on descending down the stairs, and once I make it onto ground level, I beeline straight for the door and to my car where I relive the moment over and over again until it is all I can think about.
A soft knock rattles my window and I crack it open to see the attractive guy who was in my bio lab, “congratulations Geneva!” a smile blossoms across his face, and I would be happy he’s talking to me had he not seen me almost wipe out on stage.
“For not falling up there? Or for graduating?”
The kid looks at me with a quizzical expression, “did you almost fall?” he asks.
A breath of relief makes its way out of me as I realize it may not had looked as serious as it felt, “no! I was just kidding” I nervously laugh and he laughs with me.
“So what career are you going to go into?”
“Don’t walk out on me”
Tears fall from my eyes, making a slow and tortorous path down my cheeks. I stare at the love of my life putting his shoes on, his belongings packed into one weekender bag now slung over his shoulder.
“Cass, we aren’t good for each other” his words claw at my heart and my vision grows blurrier. I want to step towards him and force him to stay, that maybe if he spends one more night with me then he would change his mind on leaving us behind.
A strangled sob crawls its way out of my throat and I stifle it with my hand as my body rattles with pain. I accept his departure and run towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Backing him up towards the door to the spot where just minutes ago, when he had announced our relationship faults, I had spilled my tumbler of bourbon. I cry harder into his chest as I slowly reach for the matches that I had hid under my long and draping sleeves that were concealed over my hands.
Dropping the lit match, I step back and look at his strucken face. The blue-tipped flames engulfing him.
“As I look into your eyes, I see our future go up in flames” and that’s the last thing I say before his screams drown out my sobs.
It was just me and her again, here on this bed. I felt bad that I was always taking her here, she deserved to go somewhere better, like a coffeeshop for instance. Take her on a plane and go somewhere away from this place. Perhaps, I should take her to the beach. The only thing I could say with certainty that I do give her though is a lot of love. She could never say I don’t love her because I do. I love her without fear or regrets, I love her with every ounce of my being. If she was to leave, Id leave with her. I would never get rid of her…never. I lay her down on the bed, and tell her I’ll be back. I hurriedly rush and brush my teeth, swish around mouth wash, change into a comfier outfit, and apply lotion.
I cant wait to get back to my book.
Take my hand and we will wander through the long grass.
Cotton candy skies, and water that looks like glass.
For there is peace where the horizon meets the peak.
Views so captivating, nothing comes when you try to speak.
Take my hand and we will wander up the base
of mountains so high that we take it at a slow pace.
For there is peace where stillness invades.
out here is where responsibilities begin to fade.
And after we are done take my hand and we will wander back home.
The views we see I could never see alone.
Your worn out boots, and my cowboy ropers.
This view is for us and all of the hopers.
“I just don’t see you and me working, B. I love her.” His eyes that were once soft like a cozy blanket now held the roughness of jagged rocks. The same lips that I used to kiss senselessly were now the same ones being used to spit out words that gripped my heart like a vice and squeezed until the red turned blue.
Damn him for doing this in a brightly lit eclectic cafe. The colorful polka dotted wallpaper seemed to laugh in my face with its pastel pinks, and vibrant orange hues, while deep down inside I felt ebony. I nod my head in a pitiful attempt to make him realize I am not suffering with the news that the girl he cheated on me with, he now loves.
How can I be so stupid?
I will away the sting of the tears that are trying to force themselves out of my eyes. I stare past him, choosing to focus on the fluffy snowflakes that cover the New York City sidewalks and pile onto street lamps. Outside, couples walk hand in hand with to-go coffee cups and beanies on, puffy jackets and smiles stretched cheek to cheek on their cold bitten faces. The colored lights of the christmas tree that stands tall and confidently in the corner of the cafe grabs my attention as I sink further down into this uncomfortable white wooden seat.
“I get it Mi-“ my shaky voice cuts out as a strangled sob tries to crawl its way up my throat. His name carries too much hurt for me to haul out in the space in front of us. It serves to remind me of who I thought he was, rather than who he actually is which is quite frankly just a liar.
If he’s a liar then I am a liar too due to the fact that instead of giving into the treacherous emotions trying to erupt out of me like an overdue volcano, I plaster on a smile when the couple seated next to us looks over.
Act happy Bea you got this.
“I want you to be with her if it makes you happy. Life is too short to not be with the one you love and I know it’s hard to find. I just wish you didn’t waste the time I had that I could have better spent searching it out. Although, our relationship didn’t stop you from doing that.” I need to get out of here before my tears mimic the snowflake that has now melted against the glass window in front of me, and trickle down my face. “I’m not mad, however I do have to get back to work.” I slap down a ten dollar bill to pay for both our lattes.
I grab my oversized purse and swing the door open to meet the bitter cold that slaps at my face. My shoulders feel heavy, and my legs lag with each step I trudge across the street through the snow. I make it only so far before my emotions finally lower me down against a brick wall on the cold cobblestone ground, and I break.
Sobs crawl out of me, tears pour down my face, and through my water-coated eyelashes, and through the brightly lit, holiday decorated, eclectic cafe window do I see that a beach blonde girl has taken my uncomfortable chair across from him.
The wind blows my rich brown hair across my face and sticks to my lipgloss, but I dont pull it away, I’d rather just hide for now.
My paint brush slides against the white canvas like butter; smooth and swiftfully. Strokes of beige mixed with orange decorate the blank space in front of me to match his perfectly tan skin.
I glance up to gauge the color of his eyes, but when I do I freeze. My paint brush has lost its function, and the canvas in front of me has seemed to lose its importance as my eyes lock with his baby blues. Ocean waves crash in his iris’ and visions of blue skies in the middle of summer cloud my head. I can see him sitting on a white porch swing, me sitting in his lap as I laugh at something he says. His faded blue washed jeans and my white flowy sundress with dainty cowboy boots. I can see a future.
“Focus” I mutter under my breath, my hand seeming to be weighed down by this wooden utensil in my grip.
“Hm?” his deep timbre of a voice takes me out of my internal dialogue, and I shake my head forcing the unprofessional thoughts of the subject in front of me out of my head. My chin tips up in determination and I start to get back to work, but like a magnet my eyes are forced to drink him up. His miles of skin that lead to the most defined muscles and chiseled jawline, his straight nose reminds me of an ancient greek statue and has me convinced he hopped off the pedestal moments ago to come and sit in this chipped wooden chair in front of me.
A string of profanities circulate around my mind due to the fact that never once in my art career have I let anything take me away from my work. I swirl my brush around in the muddied water, and place it to the canvas until I hear the chair creak.
Slowly my gaze draws up, his brunette wild curls are fallen in front of his face, his opened white button up shirt is rolled at the sleeves, and his legs concealed in khaki pants are open, leaning against the chair in the typical man pose that has my heart racing, rivaling an F1 driver.
I let the brush rest on the easel and advance towards him.
I’ll get to the painting later.
The gala was anything but my cup of tea. Rich and phony woman pretending like they are here to donate to charity when all they’re doing is scoping out their next rich hot shot to take back to their penthouse. I rest my elbows on the table behind me and take a deep sigh to let everyone around me know that I wasn’t in the mood for mingling around. My appearance was slightly disheveled; my black silk evening gown wrinkling towards the center due to my lazy stance. My hair was in a sleek low bun, but the humidity in the room was making the frizz show up in a slow and steady appearance.
There was no one to impress.
I grab a flute of champagne off of one of the waiters circular trays and down it in one gulp. The heat of the alcohol warms my stomach up and I can feel the blood pour to my cheeks as a result of its effects. I glance up as I feel the stare of someone else’s eyes on me and when I do I immediately regret it. I meet the most honey-coated, auburn eyes I had ever made contact with. Warmth and a hot fire all wrapped inside one chocolate coated iris. I blame the liquid courage on the reason why I am making long and sensual paces towards the mystery man. He meets me halfway and stops mere inches from my face.
“Dance with me.” His voice is a deep timbre and whereas usually a respectful man would at least ask, he demands.
I bat my mascara coated eyelashes at him, “aren’t you going to ask for a name first?” I take this moment to glance him up and down. His tuxedo lined his muscles perfectly, and the white undershirt beneath the suit coat was unbuttoned in a lazy and yet very exposing manner. I wanted to see the miles of skin resting underneath, but my thoughts are immediately interrupted by the growl of his voice.
“Why don’t we skip the introduction stage, I’ll learn more about you when I bring you home.” His confidence oozes out of him like lava flowing out of an erupting volcano; Hot but extremely deadly if you get too close.
I hold my hand out and his rough and calloused hands grip my delicate and soft hands. Such a beautiful contrast that I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from. I let him lead me to the center of the dance floor, “you sound so sure. I’m not that easy you know.”
The man with the mesmerizing brown eyes and the curliest brunette hair that yells at me to run my hands through it, spins me around before dipping me down. When I come back up, I push my body against his chest and look at his lips that are so close all it takes is a bow of his head.
“I usually get what I want, when I want it.” His words knock me back a step, but I rest my hands on his chest and look up into his eyes resisting the temptation to get lost in them.
“What’s your name?” I breathe the question in his ear as I use the force of my hands on him to push up on the toes of my stilettos.
He breathes back in my ear sending chills down my spine making me tremble, “Enzo.”
A beautiful name for the most beautiful of men. I can feel our chemistry pulling us together like two magnets that I know are going to deflect if we get too close. I lower my lips down until they are close enough to his where I can take a sultry breath, and then I do it.
I kiss Enzo; the most passionate kiss I had ever given another man. I surprised myself with the amount of intensity and emotion I had allowed myself to showcase in just one kiss. Enzo was right; he could have what he wanted, when he wanted it. I want to blame it on the champagne but the truth was that Enzo had such a sexual, bold, and confident energy about him that he wreaked havoc on my insides. He made my brain foggy and grey, blurring the line between what is morally right and what is morally wrong.
My kiss screamed desperation and pre mature love.
The turn of his back and his long strides across the room, away from me, screamed the opposite.
He could never love me the way I needed
As I give him the coldest of shoulders on the warmest of nights
I struggle to make up my mind
If I leave do I lose my person or do I find myself?
He kisses my lips
And I pull away
He’s unaware of my thoughts
But so aware of my distance
I don’t have a fear of rejection
I only fear how it feels when i’m the one to dish it out.
I fear guilt.
