Chapter 11
I’m a coward—a big fat chicken.
I’m like an ostrich with my head buried in the sand. Here I am in the kitchen pretending to study when in reality, I’m hiding so I don’t have to face him in his bedroom. I know, we’re alone at his house, but somehow it would feel more intimate if I was in there with him.
One of the practice books rests on the counter, a legal pad, and a pencil moving between my thumb and index finger, but I haven’t written down a single word. I’ve read the same paragraph at least twelve times and I still don’t understand a single syllable.
The letters are blurry and are starting to dance with each other. I might as well get myself some good glasses or better yet, a crystal ball because what I need to sort through goes far beyond this test.
I read the same page again, but without being able to avoid it, my mind wanders off to the man in the room upstairs. If I continue like this, I’m never going to score four hundred points, and that will make it impossible for me to be admitted into any college.
It’s already past ten, how much longer can I stay down here before he comes looking for me? And there isn’t much to do either. Lionel doesn’t have anything here to keep me busy. I mean, the only television I saw is the one upstairs in front of the old couch. I can’t even make an excuse to clean the kitchen because before I got the chance—using only one hand—he helped me to do it.
Yet another change. Before, my husband always waited for his food while sitting on the loveseat with his feet raised on the coffee table, watching one of those reality shows that he loved so much. Telling me how he wants to enjoy the weekend with his wife after a long week at work. Sure, after I had taken care of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Being his wife was like a job, but unlike a nine-to-five schedule, mine was twenty-four-seven when he honored me with his presence.
Even if I decide to sleep on the sofa, my suitcase is still in his walk-in closet. So unless I want to sleep in the clothes I’ve been wearing all day, I have no other choice but to face the music.
I get my shit together, organizing the books on a small desk next to the kitchen, I suppose dedicated to home management. Either way, it works for me. Once everything is in order, I walk up the stairs slowly and quietly, calling on my inner ninja. Maybe I’ll be lucky and he’ll already be asleep. The last thing I want to do is wake him.
When I get to the hall, I realize the doors are ajar and the light is on. It seems the odds may not be in my favor. Unless he took the painkillers, and they knocked his ass out.
“I was about to send a search and rescue party.” Dammit, no luck.
Lionel is cool as a cucumber, sitting on the bed with his back resting on the upholstered headboard. Shamelessly shirtless, he’s doing the exercises with that little gel beanbag the doctor had recommended wearing those thick black rimmed glasses I like too much.
“Your house is big,” I reply with an attitude, walking toward the dressing room. Well, my feet go straight, my eyes not so much. The traitors stop to take note of every muscle in his sculpted chest. “Next time I’m going to have to use GPS to get to the room.”
He’s getting better, but those pink lines are a reminder of the incident.
“I’m going to put a chip in you like one of those ‘where’s my phone’ apps,” he adds.
“The next million-dollar idea, ‘where’s my wife’ app.”
“First thing tomorrow, I’ll call my attorney to file the patent,” he continues sarcastically. “With this, we can ensure that our grandchildren will live like royalty without moving a single finger a day in their lives.”
I’m about to enter the dressing room, but I stop to look at him. He’s doing the same, looking at me with a smirk pulling up his lips.
“Ahhh, your fabulous idea would have worked wonderfully for me.” There it is. If he was looking for a fight, he just found one. “You always took me for granted, keeping me as the adoring wife you wanted. Always ready to serve, always attentive. At every moment you knew where you could find me, at any time. What about me, Lionel? I didn’t even know your real family situation. Where’s my wife? Why should you be worried? Who ’ s my husband? It’s only fair, don’t you think?”
Fuming after my little speech, I can hear my pulse in my ears, beating like a drum.
I think Lionel getting out of bed carefully is more for me than himself. I’m now an animal, ready to attack.
“Stay and find out, Stella,” he says quietly as he walks to where I’m standing. “Stay with me.”
I must have run a marathon, my chest heaves up and down like I just did. “For what, Lionel? So you can feed me more lies?”
“To earn your trust,” he says, raising his hands, putting them in front of his chest.
“Lionel, I loved you.” More than that, I gave him everything without taking anything in return because I felt free to do it, just to find out it was never reciprocated. I was only a fool who walked straight into a mirage.
Looking back, I don’t even know why I did it. Well, they say love is blind.
“If that’s true, then I think you should go back to Kentucky.” Those words are like a dagger that reopens the wound in my chest. “Unless you think I could win you back.”
He touches my face while considering the consequences of what he just said.
“I’m not a prize, so calm down your competitive instincts. I’m more than that.”
“And you think I don’t know that?” He stares into my eyes. Lionel isn’t hiding behind a curtain of rage as he used to do before. Now he speaks in a low, firm, and confident voice. “You think I don’t see your value as a woman? As my wife?”
“You’re asking for a lot.”
He’s asking me to jump into the void without a safety net.
“Take the risk with me,” he asks, almost pouting. Damn, such a cocky man.
“Lionel, I don’t want to spend my whole life asking for your permission.” There it goes, another truth as big as this house. “Nor do I want to live begging for forgiveness because I did something that wasn’t in your plans.”
Lionel closes his eyes. Now I understand why he does it, to stop himself from stuttering.
“I don’t want to clip your feathers,” he says. I look him in the eye and I only see honesty shining in them. “I want you to fly.”
It sounds too good to be true, but the words are blown away by the wind.
Out there the future is waiting for me. I don’t know what fate has in store for me, but I’ve learned from my past and a mountain of broken promises.
One day, I don’t know when, I will show the world what I’m capable of.
“What if I fall again…” Those words are full of meaning.
The Lionel of my past only broke down my barriers, but this Lionel can destroy me.
“We will fall together,” he says hopefully. “Take the chance on me, Stella.”
I’m out of breath, like a fighter after a few rounds.
“Give me one reason to. And don’t you dare say because we loved each other.”
“Do it because we both deserve to be happy.”
My mouth twists. He deserves nothing, neither my trust, nor my love. Nothing.
“Next.”
“Because we both need it. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I let you go. There is something between us, and I want to find out what it is.”
“Of course, there is something between us, idiot. Why else would I marry you?”
A sad smile is drawn on his lips. “You’re proving me right. Take a chance for us, believe in me. Regret what you did and not what could have done.”
“Lionel…” I start to say. “Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, shame on me.”
“Stella, forgive me, please…” He approaches me, I can feel the strength of his body in front of mine. “We both need this, Hvězda .”
“What I need right now is a hot shower,” I tell him, my voice louder than I expected.
Yes, I’m an ostrich, so what? I need more time before I go to bed with him.
This night is going to be a very long one.
???
I have no idea how much time I’ve spent in the shower warm rain. Now, not even my favorite soap aroma—the honey with lavender blend—comforts me. I’m troubled, and so confused. I should follow Valerie’s advice and get a tarot card, chopsticks, or tea reading. Maybe it would give me a clue as to what to do next.
When I open the door to the room, I find it in darkness, only dimly lit by the moonlight coming through the large windows. Lionel is laying on his side with his back to me, the wall of pillows he promised to build in the middle of the bed.
The Mississippi.
He’s giving me what I asked for, and it feels horrible.
We’re sharing the same space, the same bed, but the distance between us is insurmountable. I’ve repeated the reasons in my mind over and over again; however, it doesn’t make me feel any better.
I walk slowly on the wooden floor, my hands tracing the molding on the walls, leading me to the window. I drop into the chair and look at the night sky, searching for the North Star, like the sailors used, to guide me home. My father always said home is not a place, it’s a person. My person isn’t here, that person is hidden behind a forest of shadows and deception, and there are no breadcrumbs on the ground to guide me back.
I’m walking alone, fighting a battle against invisible demons. Because I also don’t know who is by my side.
I fell in love with one man who later became another after we got married, and now another totally different man is laying on that bed. It baffles me how the same person can have so many faces. It’s like meeting a new person who has already been with you, who you swore to honor.
I don’t want to wither away, I want to grow and flourish. And this Lionel somehow, with his small gestures is letting me know he cares, and makes me feel warm inside.
The last few day’s fatigue is taking its toll on me. I’m about to cramp my neck, dozing off in this chair. The best thing is to go to bed and see if I can get a good night’s sleep for the first time in a while.
Boy, do I need it.
I’m in the bed, under the soft sheets, when I hear Lionel mumbling.
“We are the same…” he whispers. “I’m him and he’s me… A mirror. A reflection.”
What does that mean?
“ Why ?” he starts to raise his voice. “Why?”
Is he dreaming of the attack?
“I’ll trade my life for yours.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“I didn’t know… I didn’t know.” What is he saying? Didn’t know what?
I approach him carefully, crawling on the bed until my hand touches his back and he leans in, seeking for my touch.
“Lionel, everything is okay,” I say quietly. I’m doing the same thing I did in the hospital, trying to comfort him, although I’m not sure he’s listening. “You’re at home, love. You’re safe at home.”
My hands travel down his shoulder to his back and through his hair, trying to ease the tension I find there. Pushing away the ghost torturing him.
He says nothing more, sighs, and lets himself be carried away by the sands of sleep, losing himself in them.
I crossed the bridge shortening the distance between us, at least for tonight. I lay down behind him, my chest touching his back as I wrap my arms around him.
I ’ m your shield, I ’ m right here with you. Lean on me.
Tomorrow will be another day and I will have time to deal with the consequences, now all I want is to feel his warmth and comfort him with mine.
Maybe my trust is broken, but he’s right, there is something big between us. Or the promise of it.
No one can run before learning to walk. I’m going to be like a baby walking with unsteady legs making its way into the world for the first time. I think I’m going to stay.
Fuck it, I’m going to stay.
Because the best is yet to come, right?