Layers (36 page)

~~~

By the time the office empties out I start to pack up too, pleased with my accomplishments this week. In spite of my feelings and my absence for the greater part of the week, by remaining undistracted and highly focused I managed to clear my desk from all the open tasks I had. When I finally do log off to go home for the weekend I’m pretty pleased, and so is Josh.

“Any special plans for the weekend?” he asks as he passes by my cubicle before leaving for the day.

“I guess plenty of resting is the grand plan,” I say with a small shrug.

“That’s a good plan, especially seeing as you were so sick this week; you should rest up.”

If you only knew how right you are.

“How about you?” I ask, not caring too much, but trying to be polite.

“Some of this, some of that, mainly rest and a hike.”

“Sounds like the ultimate combination.”

“Yes. Well, have a nice weekend.” He releases his special Colgate goodbye grin as he leaves.

Though I’m already packed and ready to go I wait a couple of minutes, trying not to get into any more small talk.
I’m not in the mood
.

~~~

To occupy my time and my thoughts I decide to pamper myself, beginning with a warm bath and cheerful music by “Madness” blasting from my player. Anything to keep me from fueling my anger. I continue with nail polish and end with the thought of making a nutritious shake.
A healthy body equals a healthy mind or some crap like that
. I shove almost every available fruit and vegetable into the food processor, turn it on and wait as I watch the bright, colorful ingredients turn into some slimy unappealing mixture. All of a sudden the idea doesn’t sound as appealing as it initially did. Through the roar of the machine I can hear a faint sound of a knock; I stop the machine and clearly hear the sound of a firm knock coming from the door.

“Just a sec,” I call taking quick steps through the hall, wondering who it can be.

My heart misses a beat when I open the door to find Daniel standing there, black tee and jeans, gorgeous, hesitantly smiling at me.
He is here and he is smiling at me now
.

My mental equilibrium is brutally tantalized looking back at him. Momentarily every part of me becomes frozen, not sure what to say or think. On one hand I am thrilled to see him here smiling at me, but as logic reasserts itself I am reminded how much pain he put me through and how easily he gave me up. The anger that possessed me in the last few days quickly overcomes my urge to throw myself at him.

“Hi, Hales.”

Don’t Hales me
. “Daniel,” I say, my voice betraying me by failing to sound stable.

“Can I come in?”

“Why?” I retaliate. Disregarding my question he takes a couple of steps forward to the entrance of our hall, and instinctively I take the equivalent steps backward.
I won’t be able to control myself if he gets any closer.

“Can we talk?” His eyes rest on mine with an edge of anxiety.

Now? Just like that? Where were you a few days ago?

“Daniel,” I say. “What took you so long?” is what comes to my mind and out my mouth with a jaded bite, and before I let him answer I continue, more firmly this time. “Let me do the talking.” He nods, his eyes captivating mine, he looks weary but in his own handsome way.

Once I finally open my mouth, everything that was building inside of me just spills out.

“You gave me plenty of time since this unfortunate fiasco came to life, and you know what, time does makes you think hard, because that’s all that’s left to do when you’re in tremendous pain. Fortunately, it put things in perspective and when the pain stopped overshadowing my right mind and the insane longing for you eased, I understood that it was you who broke us.” Briefly, I watch him cringe and continue, “It was you who made a choice. The choice not to trust me, to not even try to understand. You chose to give me up, give us up and give in to your stubbornness and whatever it is that you so dearly protect from the world. I can assure you that what I told you by the fire was the truth. I have never felt this way about anyone before. Hell, I’ve never felt even remotely close to what I feel for you for anyone else. Ever. But you chose not to believe me by turning your back on me, by turning your back on us.”

I stop to take a needed deep breath, highly conscious of my beating heart and unsteadiness. He doesn’t tear his eyes from mine and lets me continue, his jaw clenched. His great effort to stay self-possessed doesn’t escape me.

“Like I tried to tell you before, yes, I did say everything that was written in that article, but not the way it was written, not to the person who wrote it, and the main point is that it was said out of love, out of confessing my overwhelming feelings I felt for you to my best friend. And yes, it is unfortunate that a tabloid reporter overheard it all, and I am so sorry for that. I really am. But if you had only tried to listen, you would have understood that my innocent words were quoted out of context in the most cruel way. No, stop,” I say, as he tries to speak. “Let me finish, please!” He does.

“And now you come here, tonight, after letting me go through the seven circles of hell. When you were the first one to walk away from us and then treated me as you did, I felt numb. You broke me. I can’t listen to you now. I don’t want you here, Daniel.”

“Look at me, please,” he says, quiet and firm.

It’s too hard, don’t you get it?

“Hales, I need you to look at me,” he repeats. “Hales, open your eyes and look at me, goddamn it.”

I tilt my head to look at him and there is so much pain in his eyes.
For once, he’s listened to me.

“I’m sorry I gave up on us when you never did, but don’t give up too, Hales. Don’t be like me. You’re far better than this.” The emotion filling his voice is genuine. “Hales, I can’t go on feeling this way. I need you. I need us. I love you.”

My heart wrenches brutally from these three little words, and I know that if I look at him for a minute more I will break. I won’t have the power to hold myself back. And I don’t want that, I can’t let him hurt me again. I won’t survive a second round.

“I can’t do this Daniel. I can’t.”

“Hales, don’t.”

“I can’t, sorry,” I murmur, bitterly torn. Grasping the gravity of my words, he takes a few reluctant steps back, his pleading stare not leaving mine.

“Please, just leave.” And I close the door on him, but not before getting a glimpse of his utterly devastated eyes.

Once behind the closed door a silent cry burns me inside, evoking the pain again, this unbearable pain that consumes every part of me. I slide to the floor, rest my head in my hands and let it all go in the anguished realization that he was here just a moment ago with the intent to make amends.

~~~

A turn of the doorknob snaps me out of the hypnotic state I’ve been in since I closed the door behind Daniel.

“Hales?” Tasha calls as she tries to open the door. I scoot over a little to allow her enough space to get in.

“By the way you look I guess you know that Daniel’s outside,” she comments in an airy voice.

“He’s still here?” I ask hesitantly, my eyes swollen and my hands shaky.

She nods approvingly. “He was leaning with his forehead glued to the door. It looks like he’s in real pain, Hales.”

The notion tears me up inside. I’m still a rollercoaster of anger and longing, torn by my need for him and the rational need to stay away.
What have I done
?

Assessing me, she adds, “He asked me to tell you something.” Her green eyes are tender.

“What was it?” I ask, almost inaudibly, sniffing and wiping my eyes with the back of my hands.

“He asked me to say that he hopes you won’t let this be the last thing you ever tell him.” Hearing that, excruciating pain expands in my stomach. Tasha’s enquiring, soft gaze rests on me.

“I can’t endure this pain anymore, Tash,” I exhale with a sob.

“It doesn’t look as though you can,” she says, as she sits next to me on the floor. “It seems that neither of you can, Hales,” she adds, her voice small and cautious. “You need to let me in so I can know how I can help.”

She listens carefully as I tell her in detail about Daniel’s visit.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do because I can’t. It’s not my place. It’s not anybody’s, Hales, but yours.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “What was the main reason you let him go?” she asks, seeking my eyes.

I ponder her question. “Anger and fear,” I answer and elaborate for the benefit of explaining myself, to both of us … “Anger at the way he treated me in that cold and detached way, anger about the fact that he didn’t trust me enough to even confront me, anger because he assumed the worst, though I should be the one person he should trust the most.” My voice cracks as I say it. I take a moment to compose myself, then continue. “Fear at the strong emotions I have for him, and how easily he could hurt me like he did.”

“With what you’ve just said in mind, you need to think hard about what’s more painful. Being hurt by him, since you know he’s not exactly predictable, and no one can guarantee he won’t hurt you again, or plainly being without him.” She rubs her hands against her stretched legs.

“Numb?” I question, noticing her.

“Numb and hurting.”

“Suffering for me. How noble of you, Missy.” I contort my lips trying to smile at her through my immense suffering. She reciprocates with a hug.

“I need to pack for tomorrow,” I say after a while.

“Do you need any help?”

“No thanks, not much to pack anyway; it’s for a short visit.”

“You know, Hales, I think we should have done all this talking at the airport.” She regards me with a faint smile as she gives me her hand to help me stand up.

~~~

Flossing, I think about Tasha’s last comment regarding the airport. There’s something about airports that always calms me down. Over the years we’ve been friends I’ve managed to pass it on to Tasha, to have her embrace my refuge as her own. We’ve sat together for countless hours at terminal arrival halls spilling our guts, talking for hours and mostly watching people reunite.

~~~

Later at night, under the shield of my comforter, I turn to think about the evening’s events and Tasha’s words. There is a raging debate between my heart, which wants Daniel at any cost and my mind, which knows exactly the level of agony he can put me through. The debate ends in a deadlock.

Chapter 39: Home Sweet Home

On the plane to my childhood home I think about the fact that I should pull myself together and act poised for my parents’ sake. I don’t want to them all about being wrecked by heartache.
What they don’t know won’t upset them.

They have enough worries with Steven being away. I don’t need to add my sorrow, because I carelessly fell in love with someone my own intuitions warned me to stay away from. They don’t need to know that I’m embracing sorrow as it consumes me.

That is it, Hayley. That’s the last of it. No more obsessing about him. You made up your mind, and now you should go ahead and live with it. You’re going to be home soon.

At the sight of my two loving parents waiting for me, my heart thuds with sheer excitement. I take the final steps toward the arrivals hall.

“Hayley, baby.” My mom’s teary eyes run over me head to toe in adoration right before she pulls me into a warm embrace. Her chubby arms enfold me, surrounding me with her comforting and familiar scent of vanilla and home. As she lets go of me, my father seizes the chance to lift me up for a firm hug.

“You’ve lost weight, baby girl.”

That’s what happens when you live on about ten spoons of Dr. Ian’s miracle medicine and caffeine for almost a week.

“Let me look at you.” He carefully puts me back on the ground. “Everything ok, baby girl?” he asks, looking fairly concerned.

“Of course it is,” I radiate a fake reassuring smile, trying to add a cheerful note to my tone.

“Let her be, Derek.” My mom protects me; I look at her fondly, appreciative.

“Have you heard anything from Steven lately?” I ask, watching them both from the back seat. My mom in a flowery sundress, her soft, golden curls in a half-do, a smile never leaving her face. My dad focuses on the road ahead, serious in a green polo shirt and short cargo khakis, firm hands on the wheel.

My mom turns back to look at me. “There was a short note a couple of weeks ago. Just same ol’ Steven. The minimal amount of words needed to say ‘I’m still alive, please don’t worry’.”

A thin curve takes place on my lips. Yes, that’s a lot like Steven. Expressing his feelings and writing were never his strong suits. Thinking about it I realize I haven’t seen him for far too long and can’t wait to again. It’s nearly a year since he embarked on the military aircraft that took him to a foreign, hostile, country, far away from us.

“Lely, anything special you would like to do while at home?”

“I guess surf and maybe meet up with some people?”

She nods with warm, gleaming eyes. “Thought you would. I brought your wetsuit back from the basement. It’s hanging in your closet.”

That’s my mom, always considerate of my needs. My heart swells at the thought.

“Thanks, Mom.” I beam as I stare out the window at the familiar view of the suburban landscape.

“Are you hungry, dear?”

“Not starving,” I answer.
And that’s an understatement for you. I’m not so into food lately, Mom. You know how it is when your heart is broken into a gazillion pieces
.

“Made spaghetti and meatballs.”

How suitable. I quickly look away to keep her from seeing the storm whirling within me as I think about the last time I ate the same dish.
Don’t go there. Stop thinking. Stop thinking before the tears show up. Not here, not now
.

I quickly start chattering about nothing and everything just to make sure I don’t focus on the one thing I shouldn’t. I volunteer information about my work, about Tasha, even about Ian. My mom can’t hide both her surprise and excitement over my incessant gushing.