Authors: Lourdes Bernabe
“Eric, it’s just that… work stresses me out sometimes and I don’t really have anyone to vent to. Ya
know someone to talk things out with. I’ve got a ton of paper work I need to catch up on and tonight I just needed something to take my mind off of everything so I could start this week off fresh and ready to go. Does that make any sense at all?” I asked.
Eric’s
face relaxed some and he appeared almost sympathetic. “Why can’t you ever talk to me about this stuff? Jolene, you never say anything about anything. You’re cold and distant. Even when we have sex… it’s like you’re self absorbed in whatever it is you’re doing and I’m just an accessory for you. You don’t call me for days at a time and I know you’ve never been overly tender and loving, but you’ve never been this distant either. I feel like I’m losing you one piece at a time.”
Eric really knew how to make
me feel guilty. I didn’t know what to say or any appropriate manner in which to respond. There was no excusing the way I had treated him and how much I’d neglected him. I’d been too selfish this time. Always, really. But somehow saying it didn’t seem the way to go. There was really no use elaborating on how truly selfish of a person I was.
So I atoned in the o
nly way I knew how. I walked over to him and gave him a tight and sincere hug. It didn’t make up for all of my wrongs and I still had a long way to go to make up for my mistakes but I felt a genuine hug could express how I felt. I didn’t know any other way.
He accepted my embrace whole heartedly and then kissed my forehead. He knew I loved it when he did that and so I knew that
we were ok. We had some things to patch up but at the very least, we were okay. He had to believe me. There was no other way for him to move forward if he didn’t believe that I was exactly where I had said I was.
To doubt my words would place doubt upon our relationship and suggest that I was not in fact, the woman that he had fallen in love with. He chose to forgive me because he had to.
It wasn’t much of a choice.
We released each other from our embrace and I
stole a glance at the microwave clock. It was almost 2:30.
“Wanna stay over? Might as well since it’s so late,” I suggested.
“No I can’t. I’ve got some errands to run in the morning. I’ll get going now.” He grabbed his keys and his wallet off the counter and headed towards the door before I could protest any further.
“Jolene,” he paused and looked back
over at me. “It’s so hard to love you. Sometimes, it’s too hard. But I can’t help it. I love you and I don’t know why. I just hope you love me back…that’s all.”
He left me with those words. I didn’t get the chance to tell him that I did. That I loved him as much as he loved me. That I just sucked at showing it. I knew I had to make it up to him somehow. I needed to be present in our relationship if I wanted it to survive. But how could I feed our relationship when I was feeding the evil thoughts
in my head.
I had a need to kill and that need would
never go away. The need could not be pushed to the corners of my mind only to be thought of sporadically when I wasn’t busy doing something else. It was front and center. It was everyday. There was no shoving it off to the side to accomplish more important things. Sadly, Eric would always play second fiddle to my ravenous nature.
Chapter 21
If only I could have called it a night and went to bed right then and there. But I didn’t have my phone. And though the long night had already begun to take its toll on me, I feared the worst when I thought of all the incriminating evidence and other personal information on my phone.
I had never been careful when it came to activities on my phone. I had specific locations mapped out on certain applications. Google was also a wonderful search engine that could facilitate any number of instructions on many fascinating things if one would take the tim
e to look. Of course, there was also a list of numbers on the phone that I wouldn’t want to fall into the wrong hands.
All in all, I didn’t want anyone spending too much time perusing through
it. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what consequences would lay ahead if it fell into the wrong hands. I grabbed the house phone and punched in my own cell’s digits and waited. The phone rang over and over again until finally a man answered, “Hello?”
“Hi, umm. Yes. I
lost my phone today and since you answered it, you have it. Great!” I was surprised someone actually answered the phone.
“Yes, Jolene.
I have your phone. It fell on the floor when uh…” his voice trailed off. “It must have fallen during our little encounter in the parking lot,” Bill said. He must have picked up the phone after I had rushed out of the club.
“Yeah
Bill, thanks so much for picking it up. Do you think I could maybe swing by and pick it up now? I really need my phone for uh, work.”
If he suspected me of lying he didn’t verbalize it. “I understand your predicament,” he said. “But I live in Warwick, New York. I suspect it’s a hefty drive for y
ou, probably at least two hours,” he paused. “But if you are willing to make the trip, you are more than welcome to come to my home and pick up your phone.”
Two hours.
By the time I drove back home it would be past 7 AM. And that’s if I left immediately without any sort of distractions. But I knew myself too well. To be alone in Bill’s house might prove to be too tempting. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for self control. And too, though I hated to admit it even to myself, I feared Bill. Feared him for the things he could do to me and the things he made me want to do to him. I felt the forceful tug of my imagination and the possibilities sent chills up my spine.
Bill’s inviting nature could be the catalyst to a series of very disastrous events. I
feared to be even within a close proximity of him. Ignoring my own advice, I grabbed my purse and slammed the door behind me as I left. I needed that damn phone.
Th
e drive over was more exhausting than I had originally thought. Though I’d been in the area once or twice, I managed to forget about the two enormous mountains that you had to drive through in order to reach the wholesome town of Warwick. The mountains were both massive and ominous. At night, in the dark, when you had only your car to light the way, the twists and turns were enough to unsettle even the strongest of stomachs.
Being able to see only a few feet in front of your vehicle for many miles took some getting used to. The trees that lined either side of the road created a
n arched protective barrier over the black strip of winding roads. I wondered what eerie creatures lurked in the darkness of overgrown trees along the way.
You’d be lucky to drive through both mountains and not have a deer suddenly
saunter onto the middle of the road where you’d have no choice than to hit or go off the cliff.
The mountains were a dangerous ride no matter what time of day it was and so there were ridiculous speed limit changes and traps all over the
mountain. Coasting along, albeit dangerously at 50 MPH, I was brought down to 35 and then down to 20 and finally 15MPH. Eventually though, it would jump back to 35MPH and so the speed limit became a distraction to my driving.
Once I reached the end of the mountain road
, I only had a few more turns before I pulled up in front of a pair of wrought-iron gates. The gate’s rustic number read 33 and I was positive that I had arrived at the correct address. This was Bill’s house.
I had to get out of the car to get close enough to the intercom. I wondered why it wasn’t close enough to simply talk out of the car, but it was probably laziness taking over me after such a long night. I pressed the call button and waited. It took longer than I had expected but then Bill’s voice
finally echoed off the speaker.
“
Good morning Jolene.”
“
Good morning Bill,” I said awkwardly. I found it strange to be saying good morning before the sun had come up. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No
, no. I was putting together some paperwork in the study. I’ll open the gate now.” Just as he finished speaking, the beautifully decorated wrought-iron gate split in half and I hopped back into my Jeep.
Bill’s driveway was long
with overgrown trees lining both sides. It finally led me to a white mammoth-sized house with a three-door garage attached to its side. Parked outside of the garage were two very expensive cars. I wouldn’t consider myself a car aficionado or anything even resembling one, but from what I could make out in the dark, I was impressed.
I parked my Jeep right behind
a black Hummer and took the short walk over to the front door of the house. Could this even be considered just a house? The lack of light partnered with the vast amount of trees and shrubbery covering the property made it hard to see but Bill had quite a property on his hands. This place was in a category all on its own. It wasn’t just a house it was a wonderland.
Looking up, I imagined there were at least 4 to 5 bedrooms which made me wonder how many people lived here. Surely, this was a home for a family. It didn’t have the right look or atmosphere of a bachelor pad.
I was still taking in the view when suddenly I heard a noise and then sound of metal sliding on metal. It sounded like the turn of a lock. I twisted back around to face the door and there was Bill standing in the doorway.
He had on the same clothes that he had worn at the club but the first two buttons of his shirt were
casually undone and I saw a hint of chest hair that sparked my interest. I shunned the thought from my head. I couldn’t afford the slightest bit of inappropriateness to shine through. I just needed my cell.
“Sorry,” I smiled. “You have such bea
utiful landscaping. I was admiring the exterior of your home.”
“Oh. Well, thank you
,” he said. With both hands in his pockets, his eyes met the floor in humility. “I’ve put a lot of my blood, sweat and tears into it to make it mine,” he said.
“It shows,” I said
once again taking in another look up and around the whole front of his house.
An awkward silence hung in the air. I sensed he was watching me as I curiously eyed anything and everything that there wa
s to look at. I suddenly felt self-conscience. I must have looked like a small child seeing the world for the very first time.
I hadn’t noticed Bill inch
so close to me when he leaned in to my ear. “There’s a lot more inside to discover, if you’ll come in.” It was just a whisper but the warmth of his breathe on the back of my neck sent a tingly sensation down my spine and ignited a tiny spark. The icy chill of the wind felt stronger now that he had come so close and teased me with his body heat. I rubbed both of my arms simultaneously. “It is chilly out here.”
I stepped up
past the threshold and into the house. Its warmth relieved me of the bitter cold from outside. Yet even more, Bill’s house was breath-takingly beautiful.
Bill shut the door behind him
as I continued to rub my hands up and down my arms ridding myself of the chill. Once my eyes adjusted to the tiny glimmer of lit candles accenting the walls like musical notes I took note of the exquisite décor. The entrance to his home was decorated with strangely-large and intimidating images. The walls were colored brick red and I took a particular interest in a rather frightening painting with a think golden frame to my left. The image was that of an old man wearing a red robe sitting on a golden throne. His face bore an unpretentious smirk that immediately made me uncomfortable. Most likely, this was a portrait of an old pope or cardinal. At some point in history he was probably famous, and perhaps even beloved. But this odd image did not, as it probably should have, induce me with warm fuzzy feelings of the divine. He appeared truly menacing. It was something about his eyes.
“Ah, I see you’ve taken a liking to the portrait of San
Ignacio del Pietro,” said Bill. “You have good taste, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for a god-fearing woman.”
“I’m not,” I said. “Not really any way. I just…
it’s interesting. He seems kind of scary though, for such a high-ranking religious figure.”
“That is prec
isely the reason why I chose this piece in particular to place at the entrance of my home. He’s not a bore. On the face of it, he’s obviously holy but you can’t help but sense the undeniably heavy weight of evil. It’s an archetypal image of good versus evil.”
“Which one are you?” I asked before he could go
on any further.
“
That depends,” he retorted.
“
On?”
Motioning for me to follow, Bill
led me into a brightly lit kitchen with a big marble top island in the center. Atop were numerous bowls full of various fruits and vegetables in the center and more than a few unopened bottles of wine. No, this most certainly was not the bachelor pad I had been expecting. Most young men I knew barely had water in stock let alone mountains of fresh fruit and expensive wine to garnish their counter tops.
After grabbing two large glasses
from a cabinet and carefully setting them down on the table, he opened a bottle of Merlot and began to pour.