The next two weeks go very smoothly. Except for not talking to Noah, who
is still angry with me. I return to work, internship and school all in
one fell swoop. I talk to Clark at night when he is grading papers and
usually end up falling asleep with the phone tucked in-between my
shoulder and ear.
I am doing very well, all things considered.
I've even made a new friend, amidst all the chaos of work and school.
Jahan is a little younger than me and from a very strict Islamic
background. A sweet girl, fun to be around, very opinionated. She is in
the last Econ class I have to take before I can graduate. From the few
discussions we have I discover that she is named for the Persian
poetess, Jahan Khatun.
Because of Jahan, my interest in Persian
poetry has flared and I spend a portion of my time at work collecting a
small stack of books on the subject. She laughs when I mention it during
a partner project. Her gray eyes peek out of her niqab, or veil, they
are twinkling.
"Are you that interested in Persian poetry? Or is it me that you are interested in?" she asks, still laughing.
"Both,
I suppose. I have never had someone with such an interesting name or
such an interesting background. I have had a few Islamic friends, but
none that wore the niqab and burqa like you. I've also never read
Persian poetry. Though, working at a rare and used book store, you would
think I'd come across some while I was dusting."
She is quiet
for a few minutes. I begin to wonder if I've offended her somehow. I
begin to chew on a hang-nail, nervously. The corners of her eyes crinkle
a little. I hope that means she is smiling at me, rather than getting
angry at me. She laughs, again, relieving a little of my anxiety.
We
end up spending a few days reading over some of the Persian poetry I've
dug up, including that of her namesake. She comes over to the store and
sits with me behind the counter. We read all sorts of things I wouldn't
have read before. Or, wouldn't have thought to read anyway. It is nice
to have a female friend again.
I begin the last leg of my
internship. Once the internship has finished, I will have a review and
will officially be considered for permanent employment with the company.
This and graduation are only a month or two away. All in all, I would
say everything is going quite well.
I am walking to my car from
work, the sign for a new club lighting the way. In big neon letters, in
ever-changing colors, "Alice's Wonderland" is spelled out. From what
little music I hear, as I walk by it, their tastes are eclectic.
Probably all a part of the "wonderland" experience. Different songs to
match different drinks and lusts. Different lights to create a different
atmosphere in which to pretend to be a different person. Sounds like a
place I should visit once Clark and I are over.
I wonder if I
would actually take home a stranger from a strange bar just to sink
further into this growing addiction. I stop under one of the blinking
letters and look up. Just beyond the flashing lights I see a few stars
beginning to appear. They aren't bright enough to outshine the neon
writing. I'm sure there is some metaphor that I should take away from
this. Some deeper meaning I'm meant to take to heart about my life and
how I'm living it. Who cares for metaphors?
At home my cat meows
at me furiously. He is hungry and where have I been? Not at home feeding
him, most certainly not! I smile, indulgently, and fill his food bowl.
It is going to be a boring, stay at home, kind of night. I have some
homework I should finish for Econ, but I am not in the mood.
I
grab my laptop and search random music on the net. I stumble across some
bands I've never heard before. I enjoy almost everything I find. I am
in a "liking" mood, I guess. I even find a Persian group that I find
myself dancing to.
In the middle of a song my phone begins to chirp. I pick it up without hesitation and without looking at the caller ID.
"Hello?" I say, slightly distracted by my dinner preparations.
"Hey,
Abra." I almost drop the phone at the voice. I do drop my cooking
utensils, however. I quickly run over to the computer and silence the
music.
"What do you want, David?" I can hear my heart pounding in
my ears. I'm not sure if its because his voice still does it for me or
if its because I just ran to the computer.
"I just wanted to tell
you that I'm sorry. We ended things on a bit of a tense note last
time." He doesn't sound guilty, but maybe he is. I hate the feelings
welling up inside of the pool I thought I'd dammed.
"I wonder why
things would've been tense, Davey. I mean, you only tried to seduce me
out of my engagement ring. Which is rightfully mine, by the way, since
you broke off the engagement. Have you sold it yet?" I can't keep that
jagged edge out of my voice. I would rather eat a bowl full of nails
right now than continue this conversation. My stomach feels like I ate
the bowl too, for good measure.
"I haven't. I realized it was
wrong of me to take it from you and I want to return it. Seeing as how
you are still angry at me," I snort. "I didn't know if you would open
the door for me to return it. Keep it, sell it, I don't care. I just
don't want to keep it from you."
I hesitate. He sounds sincere. But anyone can sound sincere.
"Alice
doesn't want it." I say it more like a statement than a question. I'm
sure she remembers how long I waited for that ring. Does she remember
how I cried when David proposed with it? Does she think about how long I
waited for him to go through with his promises? I wonder if she ever
feels a tremor of guilt for all the pain she has caused. Is still
causing.
"Don't you think Alice deserves her own ring?" He says. I wonder, briefly, if he realizes what a mistake it was.
"Would you like to know what I think
Alice deserves? I think Alice deserves as much agony as you have put me
through. I think she deserves nothing less than my undying hatred and
disdain. And I think you deserve no less. Bring the ring back, sell it,
give it to Alice. I don't care anymore, David. If you need the money for
a new ring, a better ring I'm sure since Alice deserves no less, sell
it. Sell it or melt it down for scrap. If you bring it back, give it to
the landlord, because I won't answer the door. And I won't answer your
calls anymore."
"Don't you think you are being unreasonable, Abra?" He is getting angry. I don't care, I'm angrier.
"Unreasonable?
Is it unreasonable to be angry that you have been lying to me for, God
only knows, how long? Is it unreasonable to be angry that I gave you everything
and you betray me like this? I don't think its unreasonable at all. If
anything, I think you are being unreasonable for expecting me to not be
hurt by everything that you and my 'best friend' have done to me!" I am
losing what little cool I may have had and I'm starting to yell.
"Its not like you didn't know something was going on! You practically invited this by telling me you were in love with her too!"
I feel like someone just gutted me. My chin trembles and I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"I... I knew? I invited this? I told you, in confidence, that I was sexually attracted to Alice as well as to you. That I was in love
with the both of you. And that justifies you going behind my back and
fucking her? How was I too know what was going on? I was too busy being
in love with an asshole like you and a bitch like her. I was too busy
planning my wedding that I ended up having to pay for even though
it didn't happen! Never, in my wildest nightmares, did I ever stop to
think that maybe you were in love with someone else. Especially not my
supposed best friend."
"You know, I called because I was trying
to be nice and give you back your ring. I don't want to fight with you
if you are going to be a bitch. I'll leave the ring with the landlord
tomorrow along with the rest of my half of the rent."
"Fine. Do what you like. I could, honestly, care less." I hang up on him.
I
have to scream. I have to break something. I need to get out of here. I
need something, but I'm not sure what. I practically throw the food I
was preparing into the fridge. I grab my keys, my purse and slip into a
pair of sandals. I flip off the lights and lock the apartment door, then
practically fly to my car. I need to drive. I don't care where I go, I
just have to drive.
I don't know where I am headed. I'm just
driving along, passing familiar landmarks after non-familiar landmarks.
At first I think that I should go to Noah's. However, after our last
argument, I think I had better not. Plus, what if he has "company?" I
would hate to interrupt another "intimate encounter" of the groin kind.
Interrupting potential sexy time is not the way to win him back over.
On
the other hand, maybe he has forgiven me and doesn't know how to
approach me. Like how I've been feeling recently. Or he could still be
ridiculously furious. The man holds a grudge like no other. I don't even
understand why he is mad at me anyway. I am damned if I do and damned
if I don't with him. No, I'm not going over there. The last thing I want
right now is a scene.
Maybe I should go over to Clark's? Its a
little out of the way considering my current direction, but I could turn
around. I look to the left and see a coffee place. I could turn around
in their parking lot. Or I could turn around in the shopping mart's
parking lot on my right.
I don't want to bother him. The closer
to the end of the school year, the more work he has to do. I've been
keeping him up late recently as well. I'm sure he wouldn't mind and
would actually encourage me to come over and talk about it. He is
turning into a wonderful friend, but I don't want to bother him this
time.
I could go to my mother's, I suppose. I just don't want to
talk to my mom about this. She doesn't know a lot of what happened with
David. I suspect it would only hurt her to find out just how awful the
situation has become. She really loved David, like he was her own son. I really loved David.
I
come to a stop sign and just sit there, staring off into space. I guess
I should really just go home and finish fixing dinner. Maybe I will
call Noah and ask him to forgive me. I'll ask him to come over and have
dinner with me so I won't be alone. I'll confess my entire plans, but I
won't let him dissuade me. I'm drawn out of my thoughts by an angry horn
blaring behind me. I quickly begin driving again, looking for a place
to turn around and go back to my apartment.
I find a suitable
turn-around place and begin heading back toward my place. Maybe I should
call one of my sisters instead of Noah? I haven't spent nearly as much
time with Sophie or Emma as I should. Though, this isn't the best time
to bother them. Especially not with this. That's a terrible idea. Why
did I even think of it?
I'll just stick with my plan of calling
Noah. If he won't come, I'll call my older sister and see what she is
doing. Hopefully, she won't be super busy with the kids and I could go
over there and talk to her.
I trudge up the stairs to my
apartment, phone in hand. I am gathering the courage to call. I really
don't want to get lectured, but I don't want this rift to continue
between my friend and me. It is ridiculous for us to fight like this.
I dial his number and wait.
"Hello?"
He sounds less angry than the last time I spoke to him. That could be
because he didn't check the caller ID before answering. Or it could mean
he has forgiven me.
"Hey, Noah. Its Abra."
There is a small silence on the line.
"Are you there?"
"I'm here. What do need, Abe?" He sounds annoyed now, but he used my nickname so maybe there is hope.
"I
was just wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner and we could
talk. I know you are still mad at me, but I miss you and I just want to
talk." I sound desperate, though I am very sincere.
"What are we having?" He says it almost like a sigh. I smile, though, because it means he is on the path to forgiving me.
We
talk for a few minutes and then I hang up to finish preparing dinner. I
turn my music back on and dance a little while I toss the salad. It
isn't long before there is a knock on the door.
We hug each other
as he comes in. We load our plates with salad, rosemary-garlic mashed
potatoes and chicken breast. Noah brought some cheesecake cookies, a
secret recipe he has been trying to perfect for a few years now. We eat
in companionable silence for a little bit, just listening to my music
and our teeth chewing food.
"What did you want to talk about?" He asks.
"You
won't believe the gall David had today. He actually told me that I was
being unreasonable!" I set my fork down, none to gently, on my plate.
"He said I invited this on myself by admitting that I wanted Alice. Can
you believe that?"
Noah shakes his head and takes another bite of potatoes.
"After all that he has done to you, you to still expect him to be nice and act like a gentleman."
"I
can't help it." I say. "I still care about him, even though I hate his
guts right now. It still throws me off balance when he acts like an ass,
because he used to be so nice."
"Newsflash, honey, he was never
'nice.' He has always treated you rather poorly. You've just been
wearing rose colored glasses, singing 'La Vie en Rose', for so long it
shocks you when the glasses come off." He is so nonchalant about all
this. I am envious. I wish I could be so cool and detached from this
whole mess.
"Well those glasses have been ripped from my face and I am never putting them on again." I say, stabbing at a wayward carrot.
"You say that now, but I know you. At the next opportunity those glasses will be back in place as if they had never left."
"I'm
serious, Noah. I've broken them and I'll never wear another pair. I
will never be deceived by love again. Or love again, for that matter."
"Don't
be dramatic," he says. "You will learn to love again. It just takes
time. Luckily, you are young and have plenty of time."
"You say that like you are so much older than me." I laugh.
It
feels good to be here with Noah. If only I could keep it like this
moment for a little while. I need to tell him the truth about what I'm
doing, but I don't want to. It keeps coming back to my not wanting to
fight with him. It will hurt him. My sexual and emotional
self-destruction is going to take a toll. Not only on myself, but on
those around me. I am self aware enough to know this, but too selfish to
care. I am the one hurting, why should I care about anyone else's pain?
"What's
the matter, Abe? You look very serious." I look up at him and manage a
small smile. He has put down his fork and he looks concerned.
"I'm just thinking. I'm fine. Insane, but fine."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes
and no. I want to tell you something, but I know it is only going to
make you angry at me and it will hurt you. I don't want to make you
angry or hurt you." I feel a little guilty for even hinting at it.
"Don't
tell me. Right now I don't want to know. I just want to enjoy your
company. I am tired of being mad at you. You were right, you are an
adult and I need to let you be. Don't tell me now, I think I already
know anyway. So let's pretend that I don't and make believe that
everything is okay."
"Now who is wearing rose colored glasses?" I say, smiling.
"I
am. Damn proud of it too." He smiles. A beautiful and sad smile. I hate
that I am the cause of that sadness even though I have no intentions of
stopping it.
We eat the rest of our dinner in silence. We sneak
pieces of chicken to the cat when we think the other isn't looking. We
gorge ourselves on Noah's cheesecake cookies and play a couple rounds of
"Clue." We make silly faces at each other and laugh until we cry. We
have a great time.
Eventually we snuggle up on the couch, my head
resting in his lap and his hand tangled in my hair, and watch a movie.
He falls asleep half way through and I follow suit.
I dream that
everything up until this point has been a vivid nightmare. I wake, in
the dream, to what reality should've been like. A perfect wedding day. A
beautiful honeymoon. A few years of wedded bliss and a baby on the way.
I dream of David and I growing old, more in love with each other than
when we married.
I wake up crying, knowing that dreams can sometimes tell a vicious lie.
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