18. Disillusioned
eighteen
Chad
Seeing a woman with whom I had lost a connection in everyday contexts wasn’t unusual for me. However, my weekly board meetings at the foundation remained as a constant reminder that my connection with Kaira wasn’t completely absent—at least not for me.
Kaira remained radiant in her own way, maintaining her dignified poise and unwavering smile every time. For six months, our exchanges remained formal, professional, and brief. She would shake my hand while looking me in the eye, steady and without as much as a hint of awkwardness. I had to give it to her. She was either steadfastly professional, or a great actress herself.
After wrapping up our last meeting, Kaira stood up and grabbed her laptop as usual. When her phone rang, I watched her face change as if she saw a name she didn’t want to see, or a number she hadn’t recognized. Heading for the door, she answered.
“Hello? Yes, who is this?” As she stepped out, she giggled. “Oh my God, Oscar! How are you?”
I couldn’t hear the rest, since she had walked away. Even though I had no proof of that Oscar being anyone of significance, I couldn’t help but resent the sheer enthusiasm she conveyed while saying his name.
Jealousy was never a friend of mine, but I caught myself quickly grabbing my phone to check if she had an ‘Oscar’ on her connections list on some professional social network.
Quickly stopping as the page started to load, I kicked myself mentally for going to such lengths for a woman who had clearly stated that she didn’t want to be with me. I reminded myself of my date tonight with Katja, the gorgeous celebrity tattoo artist whom I had met a week ago at a high end fashion house party.
Shrugging off thoughts of Kaira, I went on my way, heading for my next meeting with a director. It was then followed by lunch with a cousin, drinks with my agent, and then a break at home, where I got ready for dinner.
As I added the final touches to my look, I took a step back and examined my appearance in the mirror. Black suit, black shirt, and shiny Italian shoes. The whole missing Kaira thing was starting to get old, and for the past six months, I’d been soldiering through dates like chores to be crossed off a list. Not a single woman sparked my interest, and the conversations kept getting duller the harder I worked on making them count.
Clearly, I was in a rut. But Katja had seemed different. Throughout the party, we had talked about politics and current affairs, and her cynical nature made for the most amusing jokes. Dark as they were, I’d laughed heartily, reclaiming some of the joy I used to feel with every new woman before Kaira was thrown into my orbit.
Promising myself a good night, I walked out of the house with enough energy to make it happen.
“So, do you have any restrictions when it comes to food?” I asked Katja as we examined the menus.
“Yes,” she mindlessly said, while her eyes ran over the page. “No meat, no dairy, no eggs. I’m gluten-free, sugar-free, and absolutely no preservatives.”
Nodding, I knew where I had heard that before. Literally everywhere I turned in my professional circle. In the end, she ordered a plain salad with lemon squeeze on the side. “That’s it?” I asked.
“Well, yes. These places need to understand that we’re no longer giving in to their ways. There’s a new world order and they have to accommodate it.”
“Right.”
“The capitalistic machine has to bend to our wishes, you see? They’ve been feeding us crap for decades, even making us crave it.”
“Ah.”
“And now—”
“Now the very same machine is intelligently changing the name of the game, and everyone is blindly following. The illusion of self-awareness and environmental responsibility is the new campaign, you see.”
She snorted, blinking at me in visible disbelief. “You talk like my grandfather!”
“Oh? Then I’d love to meet him. Sounds like a sensible man.”
“He’s a hardline conservative with obsolete doctrines, who still believes that men and women are different and should be treated as such!” she argued.
“You don’t think they are?”
Straightening her back, she crossed her arms over the edge of the table and stared into my eyes with determination. “You do. Care to elaborate?”
“I would never expect myself to have the power or the gifts it takes to be a mother, for instance.”
“Don’t butter me up. That’s the oldest trick in the book. First, you try to flatter us with the whole ‘giving-mother-by-nature’ bullshit, and then you sneak in your own superiorities.”
“I wasn’t going to do that.”
“Then carry on,” she challenged me with a faint smile. “Forget I interrupted you and let’s see where your speech was going.”
“I was going to say that I believe women are so much more evolved than men. I’ve met some incredible women—my own mother included—to know this for sure. Yes, we may have played a dirty game in order to dominate the world, but really—”
“Really? This is the sort of thing you say on dates to get into a woman’s pants.”
Tired of feeling attacked while the evening hadn’t even properly started, I leaned back in my chair, decidedly speaking my mind. “Katja, I hate to say things like this; but you seem to be forgetting that I don’t need any tricks to get there.”
“Of course. You’re Chad Niles, the sweetheart, the heartbreaker, the ladies’ man.”
“If that’s what you think of me, then why did you agree to this dinner?”
“Because at the party, I thought I saw something different. I guess I was wrong.”
“Well, join the Club of the Disillusioned.”
Shooting up off her chair, she angrily grabbed her purse. “I’m done.”
“By all means.” I stood up, defiantly staring with a lift of my eyebrows. “Need a ride?”
“I’m fully capable of calling one myself, thank you very much.”
“Have a good night, then!”
“Yeah.” She gave me a dirty look, one of those that belittled a man by starting at his shoes and ending with his hair. “You bet I will.”
And that was that.
Flashbacks of Kaira’s femininity mixed gracefully with strength and independence came crashing painfully into my mind, causing a whirlwind inside my skull that could have physically hurt if I dwelled on them for too long.
Instead, I headed to a party I had planned on ignoring for the sake of this ridiculous idea of a date. It was at a loud club with flashing lights, banging music beats, and fleeting faces. The feverish dancing and flowing rivers of alcohol made everything better, if only for the night. And what else did I need? I was happy to power through it, one night at a time, as long as I didn’t have to impose on Kaira or put myself in an embarrassing situation.
May she be happy with Oscar, whoever he was.
I had left the next day wide open, since I was planning—hoping—to be with Katja until the break of dawn. It was a lucky twist, however, since I woke up hungover and slightly annoyed. After a long therapeutic swim in my heated pool, I still felt like my stomach couldn’t handle anything more than a couple of slices of plain toast and a glass of fresh tomato juice. After that, I tried to burn some of my irritation away in the gym with no luck. Following a good sweat—the best that could have come out of it—I took a shower and then…
Then, nothing.
I didn’t feel like doing anything at all. Low on energy and the desire to engage in life, I went into my bedroom, put my phone on airplane mode, shut the curtains, and went to sleep.
When I opened my eyes and checked the time, it was almost nine o’clock at night. I had a few missed calls that I had no intention of returning right now, and my texts were exploding. Dakota, Sam from the office, my cousin Mike, and some others. The group chat with Abel, Nathan, and Dean caught my attention, since Abel was free and inviting us over for drinks. Dean said he was out of town, while Nathan was available. They were meeting at ten.
Sluggishly pushing off the covers, I contemplated whether or not I was good company at all at the moment. I had received the script for a new film that I was supposed to start reading, a task I had been putting off for the last three days.
But was I really in the mood for reading right now?
Not even remotely.
Hardly pulling up my own weight, I headed for the shower in hopes to actually wake up and be able to think. Drinks with the guys sounded like the best option right now, since I didn’t have the headspace for an impromptu date, nor a party. The comfortable thing about those men was that I could just sit there and get wasted without having to make any sense all the time. That brand of easy acceptance was exactly what I needed.
Stepping out, I grabbed the phone and responded on the thread. I’m in.
***
At Abel’s, he and Nathan were discussing business while I enjoyed my Virgin Mary in silence. It took them about forty-five minutes to realize that I hadn’t said anything.
“Chad?” Nathan turned to me. “You alright there?”
“Yeah.” I put down the empty glass, standing up and heading over to make another one. Since we were by the pool, the relative darkness was a comforting solace. “Long night last night.”
Abel snorted. “That much we could tell by the Virgin Mary.”
“Oh,” I drew it out as I shook my head, my hand hovering away from the flask of tomato juice and reaching for the whiskey. “That’s about to change, my friend.”
“Take it easy, will you?” he followed.
“This is me taking it easy.” I chuckled as I poured myself a generous serving. “Believe me.”
“What’s wrong? Lady trouble?” Nathan joked.
I shot him a dirty look, laden with mockery. “Like that’s a thing with me.”
Strutting back toward my chaise lounge, I saw them exchange a bemused look. Nathan shrugged, while Abel gave me a sideways gaze that held a meaning of knowing. He didn’t know anything, he only thought he did.
As they returned to their topic of work, I looked at my phone and grabbed it, checking for anything interesting. There was nothing from Kaira, not even about the foundation. Why was I still hung up on that?
An impulse drove my thumb to scroll over to her name on my contact list, sliding to call her. But my better judgment soon took over, ending the endeavor before it actually started to ring. Holding my breath, I stared at the bright screen for a moment. That was when a decision followed—I wished I could erase her number and name from my life, but I was bound with a business agreement. So, instead, I edited her contact file to read ‘Foundation Lady’.
Perhaps if I didn’t actually see her name, I would stop thinking of her as Kaira, the woman whose very existence plagued my mind, hanging on like a leech and refusing to let go.
And then a disturbing thought occurred to me as I suddenly recalled the dream I’d had during my nap. We were making love. She had different hair—bigger, wilder. Her green eyes were on fire. Her skin glowed like a creature from another dimension.
Why hadn’t I remembered the dream when I’d woken up, and why did it come to me now?
But then I heard Abel say to Nathan, “Yes, I was told Mario Solis is going to be at Kaira Bradley’s luncheon on Thursday. It’ll be the perfect chance to discuss it.”
Was that what feeling left out was like?