Requisite Vices (24 page)

“What does your schedule look like for tomorrow?” I ask cautiously, willing him to tell me he’s not busy so I could selfishly steal him away for the entire day.

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning, then back to managing my part of the festivities.” He responds nonchalantly.

“Oh…”

“I may have some time tomorrow night…maybe we can have dinner?”

“I’d like that.” I smile.

“How long are you here for?”

“For the duration of the festival.”

“The entire two weeks?”

“If I choose to be, yes.”

“Good. I rather like the thought of you being so close, for once.”

Gathering me in his arms, his fingers lightly stroke my curls. “Rest, now, my dear.”

Chapter 28

It’s just past 3 A.
M
as I roll over, glaring at the icy blue numbers of the nightstand clock. Surprisingly, he’s still here, and is curled up against my back cuddling close against me. I lightly run my fingers over the hand he has draped over my hip, then slip out from beneath his arm and make my way to the bathroom. My makeup is a mess, and my hair is even worse. I scowl at the clock sitting on the counter; I never do sleep all that well when I drink.

Looking back at the mirror, I try in vain to remove the black smudged eyeliner from under my eyes, but to no avail. I run the shower, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake him. Sneaking a quick peek out of the bathroom door to the bed, I find him still lying there, fast asleep.

The hot water soaks my aching body, washing the sweat and fluids from my skin and coaxing them down the drain. Once finished, I wrap myself in a towel and move over to the window in the main room, gazing out at the people still wandering the streets. Even at this late hour, there are still hordes of them walking around; drinking, laughing, and dancing to the music that’s still being drummed out and amplified.

The sky breaks, and a light splattering of rain trickles down gray clouds that must have moved in overnight. The people below are unfazed, letting the sweet sounds of music seduce them into a world without a single wet drop.

I let my finger trace a miniscule tear as it dances down the window pane, memories and thoughts swirling within the reflective orb. I’m aching, both in desire and in loss. He’s here with me, and yet I know it won’t be forever. Tomorrow, he’ll be gone again. The sun will come and he’ll be gone, just like the gray clouds when they’re pushed off into the horizon. Just how long can I fool myself into thinking I’ll ever be satisfied with the arrangement we’ve managed to piece together from broken shards of our desires. What is it he wants from this? What is it that I want?

Collapsing at the table, water tickles my skin as it slides down my back from my soaked hair. The rain drops accumulate on the window pane, growing larger and larger till they’re softly drumming out the song of my heart, as they dance in torrents with one another, and I’m transfixed by them. I watch the world below, in their distorted image, trying to find a place to fit this…well, whatever this is. Running my fingers over my chest, the ache increases; my heart threatening to bleed and push its’ way through the hole it will inevitably create in my chest. My thoughts fixed, I glance at the bed from the corner of my eye and he’s gone. The blanket tossed aside, pillows askew, and he’s nowhere to be found.

I press my hands against my temples, closing my eyes tight as I hang my head and let the sound of the rain fill my ears. It aches; my body and heart are so pained that I feel as if I’ll simply break apart, shattering into jagged shards of carelessly strewn glass.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath and willing back the tears that I can feel welling up, his hands rest softly on my shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing themselves over my skin. He leans down behind me, kissing the top of my head.

“My dear Cassandra, why are you always so sad?” he asks softly, and my body betrays me as I attempt to stifle my sobs. It’s almost a cry of joy, as I’m surprised he’s still here. Question my own sanity, I question if he’s really just some elaborate figment of my imagination.

“I don’t know.” I sob.

“You don’t know? Or you don’t wish to share.”

He pulls me up in his arms and holds me close as I sob against his shoulder. Why am I so sad? Why do I feel so empty and hollow at the thought of being alone, without him?

His hands are in my hair, softly petting the back of my head as his other hand strokes my back, his lips murmuring soft reassurances in an attempt to calm me, and the tears finally ease.

My demons have been chased away, but I know it’s only temporary. They’re still there, nipping at my heels and threatening to consume me. I just want them to go away…to stay away, but for him to have even accomplished this temporary feat is unheard of. Usually such respites come at the end of an impassioned night, and only due to exhaustion and copious amounts of alcohol.

I’ve grown to, dare I say it, love him and hate him, and I can’t grasp the idea of living without everything he’s awakened inside of me. He’s filled parts of my life that I didn’t realize were missing, and as much as I may despise the thought of it, I can’t seem to stop it. I can’t wrestle him from my thoughts and reassert my dominance. I feel so weak against him, and my body relents to the comfort of being held and protected by him.

I feel desperate and pathetic, and it makes me sick, but my heart wins this war, and wills my arms to wrap around him in return. I don’t want him to shut me out again. I don’t want him to abandon me…

“I want to be a part of your life.” I plead. Oh how desperate I must sound; like a child clinging to her first crush in response to an absent father.

“My life is hectic.” he responds matter-of-factly. “It involves cameras and interviews, and I’m always working.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re not exactly close, distance wise.”

“I don’t care.”

Shut up, Cass. You sound desperate!

He chuckles, leaning down and kissing me gently on the lips, then pulling away till our foreheads and noses still touch.

“Well, perhaps you can come stay with me for a weekend once everything settles down. We’ll see how things go, and take them slow. I don’t expect you to leave the life you have to come away with me.”

I think back on Riley and give pause; after all, she’ll probably move in with Tom soon, won’t she? I couldn’t leave her before then, though. How would she pay rent without me?!

“Perhaps…to be closer…”

“And your job? Are you so willing to drop everything?”

“Do I really have to drop everything to be with you?”

He smiles, and it was such a genuine gesture, that I found my heart sighing in pure pleasure.

“I wouldn’t be happy if you did. No one should have to change their entire lives for someone else. It wouldn’t be fair for you to give up everything so I could give up nothing.”

He tilts my head up and smiles, his thumb running along my cheek. My eyes flutter, and I press my cheek into the palm of his hand, enjoying the warmth and softness of his touch.

“I want you to live your life, and in return, I need to live mine.”

Wrapping my arms tightly around him, I breathe in his delicious, musk and basil infused scent. It goes straight to my head, causing every nerve to tingle.

“Now, why don’t we go back to bed?”

Taking my hand, he leads me to the bed, and with a single gesture, pulls off my towel and tosses it over one of the chairs. Crawling in to the bed, I’m pulled in after him. With my head on his chest and strong, lean arms wrapped around me, I fall peacefully into him, my body smothered in his warmth.

“Thank you…” I whisper, then let exhaustion take hold.

Chapter 29

Filtering lazily through half-drawn blinds
,
the suns’ light streaks across the wall, casting long shadows throughout the room like phantom fingers come to steal away the night. Breathing in the warm sunshine, I glance around the room, and he’s gone. The bed is empty and the room is completely silent. There’s no evidence that he’s been here, not even a wrinkle in the sheets beside me.

My body takes on a zombie-like state as I walk to the shower. What did I really expect from him? To wake up next to him; waste away the day cuddled in his arms while we ordered room service and watched bad 80’s movies? Ah…that would’ve been a perfect date night. Maybe we could…

Look at me. Still clinging to the hope that I mean something to him. Hanging on to the whispered promises of a late night. Does he really want me to stay with him? Why would he say such a thing, and leave me without a second thought. Even a note, for Christ’s sake. 

Rolling my eyes, I let out an exasperated sigh as I let the near-scalding water cascade over my aching body. Once again, he has me questioning my own sanity, as I struggle to convince my mind that he was just a dream. He always has been. It’s so much easier to believe that last night was nothing more than some feverish fantasy…there’s less pain that way. I’ll simply cut him off. I won’t try to send a message, or let my finger hover over his name in the contacts list, and after a while, he’ll fade just like everyone else.

Cutting off the water, I wrap myself in the complimentary plush white bathrobe, and am assaulted by the smells of bacon, eggs and fresh baked bread. The smell is intense, and wonderful, and immediately draws an embarrassing growl from my stomach. I guess I’m hungrier than I thought I was.

Padding lightly across the bathroom, I dismiss the smell. I must’ve left a window open. I should definitely find out which place is cooking up that delectable aroma, though. I’m starving!

Running my fingers through my drenched curls, I cross the bathroom threshold, musing over what I’m getting for breakfast, when I catch his silhouette in the window, framed in shadows and gold.

Turning to face me with a steaming cup of coffee in each hand, a warmth floods his eyes as his lips curl into a smile filled with such genuine happiness, that it draws the sun itself into my hotel room to chase away the shadows from every corner of the room, and my thoughts.

How could I have thought, for one second, that he would get up and leave me? He wasn’t just another lover to be cast aside when I was done. There was no agreement between us for him to leave the way he came, and my rules for the lovers simply weren’t mentioned to him. He was something so much more, something I couldn’t purge from my body and I hope he feels the same.

Of course he does. You can’t lie through your eyes, or perhaps, I’m only seeing what I want to see.

No. No more damaging thoughts. I deserve to be happy, no matter how fleeting it may be.

On the table, are two paper plates, each holding a beautifully crafted breakfast sandwich from the Gods themselves! Fresh French bread wraps lovingly around fluffy eggs, bacon and diced tomatoes. Walking over, he places the coffee in my hands and twists a sopping curl between his fingers. Placing his lips against my forehead, his kiss floods my body with an overwhelming peace and tranquility.

As the mornings rays set his hair aflame, and causes his body to glow from within with light and joy, there is no doubt in my mind. He has become my angel in a world filled with pain, and sorrow, darkness and regret.

“Good morning, my dear.” He says, while rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. “I hope you don’t mind. I figured you’d be hungry, since the pizza you ordered last night was barely touched. Join me?”

Well played, Mister Delacroix. Let’s add mind reader to your list of perfections, and the fact that you remembered how I take my coffee is a lovely touch.

Words have failed me, and I’m still reeling over him being here. I was so convinced he’d leave. What else have I been wrong of? What else have I so, whole-heartedly convinced myself was real, that turned out to be false?

He ushers me into a chair at the table, then joins me. His auburn waves are hanging, damp, from his scalp, no doubt from the humidity brought on by last nights’ rain and the festering sun.

“Cassandra, might I ask you something? It may be a bit personal…”

Personal? What…he wants to know what I use to shave my legs? Or when my monthly ‘friend’ comes to visit? I don’t know how comfortable I’d feel disclosing that kind of information

“Sure…” I mumble between bites of food. My God, this tastes amazing.

“This is difficult to ask…” he states shyly, his eyes averting to some corner of the floor as his fingers rake through his hair. “I’d just…like to know…why do you cry in your sleep?”

I cry in my sleep? How embarrassing. I swallow hard and stare into the coffee cup, as if it could offer some answer for him. I didn’t realize I had. I wonder why I do...

“It was probably just a nightmare.” I state, as I wave a hand dismissively. Nightmares happen to everyone. Surely I’m not the only person who has a bad one now and then, and cries because of it. I wish I could remember what it was, though. Maybe then I could offer more of an explanation.

“I realize we haven’t spent much time together, but every night we have, you’ve cried and whimpered in your sleep. I’ve tried to soothe you, but it does no good. I feel so helpless…maybe if I knew why you did it, I could help. Do you have a lot of nightmares?”

“I don’t know. I guess? It’s not something I think about. I don’t remember my dreams too often.”

A blatant lie. I remember every single one of them. Every painful, minute detail of every single nightmare, and often, they’ll jumble themselves together at night just to drive me closer to the edge of insanity. Sure, I can drown them out, but every night they will remind me that they’re still there. Memories of nightmares, perversions of a painful past bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to take hold.

I glance out the window, suddenly losing my appetite at the turn the conversation has taken. Sliding across the glass are phantom images of a little girl, an older man…and pain. Immense, unbearable pain. Moving my eyes to the sky, I feel a warm tear slip from my eyes. Why…

“Cassandra…I think you do remember them.” He reaches across the table, wiping away my tear with a delicate touch of his finger. “What are they about?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Cassandra, I thought we went over this. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me. I’m not here to judge you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’m the last person who should be judging anyone.”

Hide? I’m not hiding anything. Why the sudden interest in my life, anyhow.

“Why does this matter?!” I snap, unexpectedly. The tone surprises me. I had expected to say it an entirely different way, but my voice took on a mind of its’ own.  Why are we talking about me? All of these questions are pushing the limits of my patience. Can’t we talk about more pleasurable things? Like sex, or the festival, or the goddamn weather. Or why talk at all? I’d rather just strip down. Then I don’t have to think. Then…my mind is quiet.

“Because it may help you…” he murmurs. His voice is soothing, filled with worry and concern. How easy it would be to melt into him again, but at the moment, the gentle voice sparks a deep-seated anger.

Standing abruptly, my chair clatters to the floor as I walk to the other side of the room, busying myself by straightening up. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t even want to hear him speak.

“Please, Cassandra.”

“Cass. It’s Cass. Stop calling me Cassandra. I hate it. And how the fuck do you know what will help me? Who gave you the authority to say there’s anything
wrong
with me!? I’m perfectly fine. I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s. I’ve always,
always
gotten by on my own, without anyone…without you or Riley or my family. I don’t need
you
, Alex, to
help
me. I’m not some charity case. You can’t throw those sad eyes at me, and sweep me off my feet and expect to squeeze every fucking shattered piece back together into a portrait to hang on your wall. I don’t need yours, or anyone’s, sympathy. No, don’t look at me like that, like I’m some child with a skinned knee that you have to protect. Fuck you.”

My face is burning. Tears are gushing down my cheeks, soaking my neck, and I’m trying in vain to hide them. I don’t cry in front of anyone, and now Riley
and
Alex, have seen it, and I’m thoroughly disgusted with myself for it. It’s a weakness that I can’t afford to show. I’m stronger than that. I’m stronger…

He stands and moves behind me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his chest, where my tears soak through his shirt. My body is trembling, and the memories threaten to break through. They chip away at the wall, exposing pinholes large enough for the smallest pieces of my past to sneak through, and even those, are overwhelming. I can’t…I can’t hold out much longer. I can’t fall apart. Not in front of him.

Pressing my hands against his chest, I push him back more forcefully than I wanted to, and he staggers.

“Just get away…please.”

The memories are painful, and my fingers press against my temples, gripping my hair tightly in hopes that physical pain will drive back emotional pain. It’s always easier to deal with something physical than the daggers that are slicing away at my chest.

“Don’t push me out, Cassandra. Please don’t.”

The monsters are there, nipping at my heels, ripping their teeth into flesh and sinew, and I can feel every small piece ripped violently from my body. My heart aches, on the verge of melting between their gnashing jaws. The memories…no. No, they didn’t happen…they didn’t happen. Nothing happened.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” I whimper, stifling sobs, my eyes tightly shut, blocking him out as my body curls on the bed. “I was a good girl…an innocent girl. I did nothing wrong. I was raised by a loving family…they loved me, and it was perfect. My childhood was perfect. My life was bliss. We were happy…we were always happy.” But the words are hollow against my lips, dried and cracking like blood baked in the sun. It hurts, oh god, it hurts. “Nothing happened…nothing happened.”

He sits on the bed beside me, his hand gently rubbing my shoulder, but he feels so far away. So distant, as if it were another time, another world, another life.

“Tell me what happened…”

I set my jaw, sucking back the tears and taking a deep breath. Deep breaths…I will not break.

“Please get out.” The words are almost too much to squeeze out. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t need his pity.

“Burying things isn’t the way to cope.”

“Get…the hell…out!”

Several seconds of silence stretch on for eternity with us sitting in silence before I hear the door shut, and I’m alone. Completely, and utterly alone. But this is what I wanted, isn’t it?

Running to the bathroom to splash cold water in my face, I begin going through the notions to piece together my shattering reality. He wasn’t here. He didn’t try to drag up my past. It didn’t happen.

After another shower, I dress and rip open the shades, looking over the crowds of people that have already begun forming for the festivities. Straining an ear, the lively notes of the band caress against my skin. The sun rays beat against my eyelids, flowing through me from head to toe, and I breathe it in. Soft, slow, deliberate, the heat of the morning and the smell of the city seep into my soul.

Today is all about getting my work done, and enjoying my time in the city. Nothing else matters.

Checking the mirror, I pull on my mask — a perfect, near genuine smile — and head out into the world.