The Lonely (11 page)

"Where
are you from?" I ask, curious suddenly.

"Kansas."

I
roll my eyes, "Well duh. I know Kansas. I mean where were you fighting
when he found you?"

"Wichita."

"He's
from Kansas too?" I'm confused? "What was he doing at a boxing match
in Wichita?"

He
frowns and pulls the car into the parking lot of the doctor, "Not a
clue." He hops out and gets the door. I look up into his beautiful eyes,
"A hundred thousand a year and you never questioned it?"

He
shakes his head, "I was making thirty fighting and fifteen at the gym as a
trainer."

I
walk away from them and pull my sweater tighter around me. None of this makes
sense.

The
door to the office feels like the door to Sebastian's building.
 
I miss him in sick and twisted ways.
Selfish ways.

I
open the door with the gloved hand. The only thing I love about winter, wearing
gloves. Gloves in the summer make my hands sweaty, which freaks me out more.
But gloves in the winter are my new saving grace. Gloves and Michelle.

I
push the button on the elevator in a series of taps and take a deep breath.
When the elevator dings and the door opens, her smiling face is there for me.
She never makes me ride it alone. It's his orders. I like it though. I don’t
like elevators alone.

"How
are you this week?" She asks, as I step inside.

"I'm
okay. How are you?"

She
presses the button and nods, "Excellent, thank you." When the door
closes she turns, "He's phoned only a few moments ago. He's terribly
worried. Is there some stuff you don’t want to talk about, that maybe you
should?"

The
elevator stops at her apartment. We walk out into the huge open space. I hate
it. It's too open and too white and too bright. I feel like I am under a
microscope here and she can see all the fine details I try to hide.

I
walk to the chair, where I always sit. It's the one with the back to the wall.
I don’t like chairs with their backs near windows or doors and god forbid it,
open space. I shake my head and fidget with my fingers, "I'm doing good. I
don’t know what he's talking about."

She
sits and sips from the glass of water she has. She always sets me out one as
well. It always has a cucumber slice in it and looks refreshing, as always,
I've yet to drink it.

"He
is under the impression you've had a bad break up. You're depressed a bit from
it." Her dark-blue eyes and dark shiny hair shimmer in the extreme light.
The light that makes me feel exposed.

In
it I can see her better though. She is mid forties and pretty, but like a mom.
She reminds me of Michelle's mom. Pretty and clean. Only Michelle's mom always
smells like food. I can remember the millions of hugs that smelled like spaghetti.

"He
seems to think you are upset about the young man. Sebastian."

I
continue to ignore her. I refuse for her to see that side of my soul. The dirty
side. "There is something I want to talk about. My benefactor, I think
he's a bad man. He's paying a hundred grand to Stuart to be my driver. Who does
that? He hired him from a gym. He could be a serial killer."

She
crosses her arms, "So you wish to discuss the possible previous career
choices Stuart has made? Or that the man paying for you to get better, could be
a bad man?"

I
nod, "I'm going to bet mafia of some sort."

She
doesn’t grin.

I
fidget my fingers, "Can we do the grateful thing again?"

She
sighs, "Avoiding the conversation isn’t going to make it go away. You know
you’re safe in here. Let's talk about the relationship. Do you feel like it was
a wise choice, considering your feelings about people and proximity? Did you
tell him everything?"

I
snap, "What everything? My holey memory about a creepy house, blue eyes in
a dirty hole and a dead girl on a bed? What am I supposed to do with that? Oh
right there was also a gunshot. Useful stuff."

Her
lip plays with a grin, "Nice. I like that question. What do you think the
answer is?"

I
want to toss something. I might snap her head off if she asks me one more
thing. I squeeze my hands in a ball. My nails are short, always. They don’t
leave indents but my fingertips start to get numb.

"He
said you have been to the bar a few times. How was that? Seems like a big
step."

I
press my lips together and take in big breaths.

"Are
you self calming?" She asks and sips from the water again. I watch my
glass. I'm so thirsty.

I
decide I can play along with her. I shrug, "It was fun. The dancing was
fun. I didn’t like being around so many people, but they never really noticed
me. So I felt invisible."

She
nods and watches me. "Did you drink?"

"A
sip of beer a few times. Nothing crazy."

"Did
you buy the beer?" Her tone puzzles me.

"No.
Shell did. She bought the beer and gave it to me."

Her
eyes narrow. She sips the water again. I think she's doing it loudly to make me
want some. "Was the lid off the beer when you got it?"

I
frown and nod, "It was." How did I not notice that?

"Did
you dance?" She changes the subject quickly.

"Yup."

"That’s
some progress I think." Her voice lifts. I grin, I love her approval. Like
the nuns.

"Now
the guy you met, was he there?"

I
nod. My smile fades.

"Why
did you break up?"

The
words pop out, "I can't be that girl."

"Can't
or won't?" She doesn’t miss a beat.

I
shrug, "Does it matter?"

She
nods. Her eyes sparkle. "If you want to change and one day be free of it
all, it matters. If you want to have a real relationship one day, of course it
matters."

I
look down. I need to change the subject. "I don’t sleep much anymore. If
Michelle isn’t there I don’t sleep. He asked me to tell you that." I'm
dreading where she will take that.

She
sits back on the chair, getting more relaxed. "Okay. What is that?"

"Before
it was just the first night somewhere new. Now it seems to be all the time. It
seems to be worse."

She
drags her long slender finger with a French tipped manicure back and forth
along the armrest, "Since the breakup?"

I
nod. I'm close to her. I trust her. I relax and take a breath and remind myself
of these things. She isn’t the enemy.

"He
broke up with you?"

I
shake my head.

"Why
are you so sad if you broke it off?"

I
laugh bitterly, it's almost a sob. "I couldn’t be with him."

"Sexually?"

The
word makes my skin crawl.

"Do
you want to talk about the house you've mentioned before?"

I
almost crawl backwards up the chair, "NO!"

She
puts a delicate hand out, "Calm. Be grateful for the moments that matter.
You are breathing air and are alive and the room is clean and free of germs."

I
take a breath but my skin won't stop crawling and shivering.

"So
sexually you can't be with him? Is it possible you feel guilty for wanting
to?" I'm up and walking for the door, "Thanks doc." I press the
elevator. It opens instantly. She knows better than to chase me. The door
dings. I walk across the foyer and out into the cool breeze. Michelle and
Stuart are kissing in the front seat. I turn left instead of going to the car.
I don’t want to disrupt them. I have my wallet and phone. If I get desperate
I'll call a cab.

I
stroll down the driveway and out onto the street. The air is cold and crisp, it
makes me feel clean. Well clean-ish.

My
phone vibrates. I pull it out and answer.

He
speaks before I can, "Why did you leave the car?" He is moody.

I
can be moody too, "Why did you hire Stuart for a hundred thousand a year
to drive me around?"

He
heaves a sigh, "He has a big mouth and my business with him is private.
That just cost him his pay for a month. Why did you leave the car?"

I
scream into the phone, "HOW DO YOU KNOW I LEFT THE CAR? WHERE ARE YOU? YOU
FUCKING FREAK! STOP SPYING ON ME!" I'm trembling and at my breaking point.

"Are
you finished?" He is calm.

I
dry sob and feel badly for calling him a freak. It's a glass house moment I'm
not proud of. "Yes."

"Why
did you leave the car?" He is so calm it scares me.

I
laugh, "Why did you hire a boxing UFC champ as my driver?"

He
laughs with me but says nothing. He is silent. I wait for it and then sigh. I
am defeated. "I wanted to be alone. She made me feel dirty. I didn’t want
to be with them."

"Because
I am a rich man and if anyone ever knew that you were my ward, they would hurt
you to get to me. I need to know you're alright. At all times. Stuart can
protect you. I cannot. I am busy." I am a burden suddenly.

I
don’t have anything to add to that. How can I be so angry that he wants to keep
me safe? At all times. And I am a burden that costs him a fortune. I pause,
"What? Wait…who wants to hurt you and me?"

"My
business." His tone is getting edgy. I don’t even want to know what he's
talking about. I don’t need new reasons to not sleep.

I
pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. "Can you find
Sebastian for me?"

"Why?"

"I
need to tell him that I'm sorry. It's killing me inside that I made him feel so
awful." I don’t say that he is the only normal thing in my life and I need
him. That I made a terrible mistake.

His
voice is dead calm again, "Do you love him?" I spin around and look
for him. He must be watching me. I shake my head, "I don’t think I'm capable
of that."

I
hear the car. He's gone. He's hung up again.

I
turn and see Stuart. He looks savagely angry. He gets out and opens the door to
the car in a rough jerk. Shell is scowling at me. I sigh, and climb in
defeated. They don’t speak to me, or each other. When we drive up, Stuart
doesn’t get out of the car. He doesn’t move his head. He looks straight ahead.
I climb out. It's the first time I've opened my own door. I feel sick. I'm a
moron. I know this. I walk up the stairs to the dorm. Shell stays behind in the
car. I don’t have to look back. I don’t hear her door. I walk inside and feel
the lump in my throat growing.

I
sit on my bed and wait for the lonely, but even it doesn’t come.

She
packs the bag in a silence that feels heavier than the late August air we
suffered through. She doesn’t look at me.

"You
sure you don’t want to come? She is going to be pissed you're not there. She
says it feels like we're missing a member of the family."

I
shake my head. I'm touched but her family's Christmas is huge. Italians at
Christmas equal chaos and food and red wine and kisses and hugs.

"My
skin almost all peeled off last time I went. Remember, I ran out of sani and
your poor dad had to go hunt for it on Christmas day?" Not to mention I
felt like a Dickens character. I was the poor orphan with no one and they were
the warm, friendly family with the smoking-hot sons. I think about my situation
and realize it hasn’t changed much. I am still fairly Dickens, only more like a
combination of Miss Havisham and Pip rolled into Oliver Twist's life.

I
sigh.

She
glances at me. Her face hasn’t changed much since I lost Stuart a month of pay
by opening my big mouth. I knew better. Orphans always stuck together and never
ratted anyone out to the nuns. No matter what. Even if it cost me ice cream.

"I'm
sorry."

She
shakes her head, "I don’t blame you. He freaks me out." She kneels in
front of my bed and grabs my hands. She doesn’t do that much. Her eyes twinkle
with fear and worry. "I just thought that maybe this would be a new start
for you. No more nuns telling you to clean and hitting you with branches. No
more scripture and religious shit. I know you never believed so it was easy to
walk away from the church." She squeezes and her voice wavers, "But
Em, you haven’t left. Not really. You're still in that damned orphanage. You're
still alone in the world. You don’t let me in. You ran off the most perfect guy
in the world. You're running my perfect guy off. You clean when you don’t have
to and you have meltdowns in the cafeteria, because the guy next to you has bad
teeth and chews with his mouth open."

I
look down. Shame and sadness are creeping around in my mind, bringing up old
shit and bad memories.