Breathe (12 page)

After I shut the door behind her, I went straight to bed. The clock wasn’t even nine, but I didn’t care. Of course I couldn’t sleep. Even though I had stayed awake most of this weekend, my mind wouldn’t relax enough to give me rest.
The bed felt to big. I was twisting and turning, trying not to picture the perfect couple, trying not to feel guilty or jealous, trying not to miss him. I wasn’t angry at him for going on an event with his wife, that would be stupid. Or, maybe I was a little stupid. But I was mostly angry with myself. I was stupid enough to bring a married man home with me, and now I paid the price. I knew it was going to be hard to let him go. I should have saved myself the agony and stayed away from him. I tried to control my despair and get a grip on myself, but it was useless. What really drove me of the edge and had me sobbing myself to sleep was the scent of him on the pillow where he’d slept. 

«I dream my painting and I paint my dream.»
- Vincent van Gogh

I woke with
a racing heart. I’ve been dreaming about three Siberian Huskies chasing me in a valley of snow and ice. The dogs were angry, they were growling and barking aggressively as they followed me down the path. I was running towards an opening in the mountain of ice. It was too far ahead, but I knew that if I could just make it through that point, everything was going to be all right. My feet were pounding the hard surface, running as fast as I could. But the opening got further and further away, like I was running backwards instead of forward. And the dogs closed in on me, one of them was almost at my side, and I could see straight into the cold blue eyes. At that point, my body jolted into consciousness, and I was back in my own bed. I lay there staring at the celling, afraid to go back to sleep. The time was only 5 a.m., too early to start the day. I didn’t want to think about the dream and what it might mean. But I knew the scariest part was those cold blue eyes, and I knew who they reminded me of. I forced my mind on something else, like the painting I was working on at the moment. Or the trip I wanted to take this summer. Or which part of the city I should start to look for an apartment. I couldn’t afford anything in this neighbourhood. Or, I probably could, but I wasn’t about to spend that much just on location. Alice had an apartment on Westbridge. Maybe I could find something there. I had no idea what the going rate was on apartments there, but it might be ok. I needed a two-bedroom. Not because of guests, I never have sleep-over guests. I need somewhere to paint. Or maybe I could get a smaller apartment, and rent a studio for painting. No, I liked being able to get up and go painting in my PJs. I liked this apartment. I was really going to miss the view, and my runs in the park. Thinking about running reminded me of the dream. Maybe I should go running now. I had given up trying to get to sleep again, so I might as well do something useful. Running would clear my mind. And I was already sweaty from my dream.

Ten minutes later, I was heading down the stair
s in my workout clothes; short black sweatpants, a red tank top and a black hoody. I hadn’t even checked the weather outside. Jeffrey was working today, holding the door up for me as I came outside. I preferred Frank, Jeffrey was always trying to make small talk even when you were in a hurry. I wasn’t in any hurry this time, but I kept my earplugs in place as I passed him and smiled.

It wasn’t raining outside, but the clouds where dark and low. I kept a steady pace towards the entrance to Kensington Garden, and then turned right, following a path I knew led to Serpentine Bridge. It was to early for tourists,
but there were plenty of morning joggers. I passed a group doing yoga on the grass, and several people going horseback riding. I loved horses, and had a few lessons when I was younger. Not many, my mom couldn’t afford the cost. She should have used the money my father provided. Not because I wanted more horse lessons, I was fine without them. But if she had spent some of the money, then she wouldn’t have had to work as much as she did. She could have spent that time on us. Now we were out of time. Now I was on my own. Which were fine, I could handle it, I was an adult. I didn’t, however, need to complicate things by involving myself with a married man. Not that we were involved. He never said anything about seeing each other again. And why should he? He got what he came for. I caved too easily. I didn’t want to think about it. I focused on my pace and counted my steps until I was back at the apartment an hour later.

My stomach was growling as I came out of the shower. I remembered I had fridge full of groceri
es, thanks to Anna. I hadn’t paid for any of it. Christopher refused to check the amount with Anna, and hadn’t accepted the money I tried to give him, saying it was for him as well since he was staying with me all day. Like we could ever eat half of it in one day. I didn’t feel comfortable with the whole deal. It’s like I’m a hooker, and he paid me with bags filled with food.
No, don’t go there,
I chastised myself. Making myself feel bad was never a good way to go. I had to take care of myself, and that meant focus on the positive. And eat regular. Last night, I ate two slices of pizza, and that’s about it. I knew the danger signs, and I knew controlling my intake of food was just a way of dealing with other things. When I couldn’t control my feelings and emotion, I punished myself by ignoring hunger. If I weren’t careful, I would end up in therapy again. I remembered the last thing my doctor told me before I was released the last time; ‘You have control over your disease now, Sara, but that doesn’t mean you are cured. Your anorexia is always there under the surface, just waiting to flourish. It’s important to know the signs, and take a step back to find the cause when you feel like you’re loosing control. If you know why, then you hold the power, and not the disease. It is your body, and your choice to decide if you want to be healthy or sick.’ It was all a bunch of crap. But she did convince me to eat regular, making sure my body got what it needed. I did good in the last three years. Lately, not so much! But that didn’t mean I was sick again. I just had some stuff to deal with right now. I ignored the growling stomach and grabbed some coffee instead. Then I went into my studio. The painting I had made of Christopher was still on the easel. I turned it backside out, and went over to a wicker chair by the window. It had a soft sheepskin on it, and I cuddle into it with both my feet up. It was pouring outside, and the dripping sound was soothing. I sat there a while just listening and watching people running in the ally below. I had nowhere to be today, nothing I needed done. I had all the time in the world, and it made me gloomy. I needed a project. Maybe I should start on a new painting. I had all these feelings inside, and I needed to ventilate. And I knew what my inspiration was going to be. I was going to paint my nightmare so it couldn’t come back to haunt me. But first I needed to eat. It didn’t matter what, just as long as it was something. I wasn’t about to get sick again

His first text came around 4 p.m. I was painting when I saw his name pop up on my phone display. I had to sit down after I read it, not sure how to feel about the message. It read
Miss U! When can I C U again?
He missed me. Really? And he wanted to meet me again? I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, but it didn’t do me any good on long terms. I couldn’t handle the rollercoaster of him coming and going and seeing him with his perfect wife. But he did want to see me again. My stomach fluttered at that. But what does that mean. Was I a booty call? I couldn’t handle that, could I? It wasn’t something I could decide just like that. So I put my phone down, ignoring the message for now. I tried to get back to the painting, but my mind wasn’t into it anymore. So I gave up and started to clean my brushes while I pondered what to answer. I couldn’t go through with this. I couldn’t go around waiting for him to come over and have sex whenever he felt the need. Well, I could handle the sex, I had no problem helping him with that. But he is married, for gods’ sake. And a celebrity. Did I want to end up on the cover of some sleazy magazine? Could I handle the sneaking around, lying to my friends, not to mention his wife. I knew who those blue eyes in my nightmare represented. I exited the studio and went in to the kitchen, made myself a fruit salad and ate it slowly, still pondering my answer. Finally, I put my phone away, deciding not to text him anything. If I nourished this anymore than I already have, I would fall helplessly in love with him. And that would probably kill me. And it’s pretty hard to enjoy life if you’re dead.

His second message came just after eight.
R U OK?
I could probably answer that one, but I was afraid that would encourage him to write more. I wasn’t sure how strong I would be in my decision if he kept texting me. Finally, I caved, and texted him a ‘Yes’ in return.

His third text came t
wo seconds after mine was sent.
Do U have any plans this weekend?
I couldn’t answer that one. My mind kept drifting to the possibility that he came and stayed another weekend, but I refused to be taken in. If I let him in Friday, then he would leave me again Sunday. I couldn’t deal with that.

An hour later, he called. I didn’t pick up. Then a new text:
Please call me.
I didn’t of course. I left my phone on the living room table and went to bed. Half an hour later, I went back and got it, placing it on my nightstand. I lay in bed for an hour watching it, waiting for him to call again or send me a new text. I didn’t want him to, but I was hoping he would anyway. The phone stayed silent. I almost called him back. But I forced myself to lie still. It took a while, but I finally drifted of to sleep. 

Next day, he called three times before I turned it off. I had woken up determent to go on with my life without the complication.
After everything I went through with Erik, I should know better. I didn’t need to feel the pain every time I saw him with his wife, or to think about him being with her. I didn’t want to feel jealous. And I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t deserve to be his booty call, I could do better. But I missed him. I had stupidly, irreversible, massively fallen in love with him. I was in so much trouble.

I was painting my nightmare-piece when I heard the buzzer. I ignored it. I wasn’t in a mood to have company. Five minutes later
the doorbell rang. That was weird. I knew Jeffrey was downstairs, and I couldn’t picture him letting someone up without an answer on the intercom. At least Frank never did. How did he even know I was home? Well, of course he knew, I always went out the main entrance, since I didn’t have a car in the garage. But that didn’t mean that he could let someone up without asking. Unless it’s Alice. She has been here so many times, that Jeffrey probably just let her up. Frank never did, though. I had my painting clothes on, a used-to-be white top and some green harem pants. Both were covered in stains. On the way to the door, I saw my face had paint stains as well. Alice wouldn’t care, I thought as I opened the door.

I inhaled sharply as I stood face to face
with Christopher. He was outside my apartment, without a mask. Just him, dressed casually in a grey suit and white shirt. His demeanour was serious, almost angry, like I had done something wrong.

‘
Chris, what are you doing here?’ I knew my question was abrupt and rude, but I was so surprised. He stepped in, forcing me to backtrack into my own hallway. He closed the door behind him.

‘
You don’t answer your phone,’ he growled.

‘
I have been busy,’ I said, holding up my fingers covered in blue and white paint. ‘How did you get up here?’

‘
The doorman is a fan. That’s not the point. You should have called back.’ He was backing me up against the wall now. ‘Are you angry with me? Have I done something wrong?’ He wasn’t angry anymore, but he was still serious as he came closer.

I wanted to answer him yes, he did something wrong. He allowed me to fall in love with him and then left me to be with his wif
e. I wasn’t that stupid, though. I didn’t tell him that.

‘
Aren’t you a little to paranoid to come all the way here to ask me that?’ I said instead. 

‘
I had to, you didn’t answer your god damn phone. Besides, I’m not alone. Anna is waiting by the elevator. I only have a minute.’

The small part of me that hoped that this was a booty call just died. I didn’t
know if I was relieved or disappointed. 

‘
I’m sorry. I thought maybe we were through,’ I whispered. I was definitely disappointed this wasn’t a booty call.

‘
Through? Like finished? You invite me home and spend two amazing days with me, and then just toss me aside?’ He was in my face now, and I was staring into his eyes. It took me a second to realise that he had stolen my lines. Those were supposed to be my words. He was the one who left, he was the one who is married. I didn’t know what to say.

‘
I thought we had a connection, that we had something. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it too?’ His voice was softer now, hypnotizing me. I had trouble finding my own voice.

‘
I did.’ My voice was husky and my emotions in turmoil. I couldn’t let him do this to me. ‘I also felt left behind when you walked out my door.’

‘
You were the one throwing me out because your friend was coming. And I tried to talk to you before that, but you kind of jumped me.’

I blushed at his word, guilty as charge. I didn’t want to hear his goodbye speech.