Unknown (6 page)

"Stop searching for her, she isn't coming", she breaks in a few minutes later, interrupting me reverie.

Damn, I had that coming. I have been staring at the entrance for some time now. Caught in the act, no excuses.

"Hmmm?" I try to pretend ignorance. Needless to say, it doesn't work.

“Your parents just arrived, I don’t see Elizabeth anywhere, so you might as well pay attention to me”.

I give her an apologetic glance before turning and giving the crowd a quick scan, and observe that Drew is right on both counts. My parents have indeed arrived and Elizabeth is not with them.

My mood takes a nosedive.

"I am paying attention", I murmur sourly,

berating myself for caring. I must look the epitome of
self-imposed misery.

Good. Great. So she
isn't here, what does it matter to me.

"Hah! What was I speaking about?" Drew questions, pulling her eyebrows in to enhance that scowl.

"Javier, your French boyfriend".

And I know this only because we had discussed him at length in our last email, and my subconscious had caught on the name while the rest of me was busy sulking.

The answer did not mollify her one bit, instead it had her sighing in resignation. I could never completely grasp the concept of discussing one's exes, but I had enough experience to know it was a favorite with the opposite sex. Drew had been ranting about her ex-boyfriend for some time. I had been hemming and hawing at appropriate places.

"He says he misses me and he wants me back", she declares, furrowing her brows and pouting sullenly.

I wasn’t waiting for her either. I was just, you know, admiring the crowd.

“That’s predictable. Do you want to?”

“Are you kidding me? I still can’t believe we were together for 2 months. What did I ever see in that pea-brained, pompous prig?”

Oh yeah. Love is blind baby.

"I believe it was his herculean body" I reply dryly.

“Yeah, well, he was an attractive, if totally useless, package.”

Damn it. Where was she? Why didn’t she come?

"You are a heartbreaker, Drew."

“I don’t know about that. You managed to break mine.”

Maybe it’s another one of………wait, WHAT?

“Drew?”

“That got your full attention, huh?”

"What is this about, we broke up years ago". How on earth did we jump from the muscle man to me? And why?

"That's right. We did. Because you still loved her, and I was tired of settling for second-best", she whispers, then rolls her eyes as she takes in my guilty stricken grimace.

“I never….I don't…. I was faithful to you", I blurt out, having no clue how to address this unexpected elephant in the room. I was faithful, but I wasn't particularly passionate. And that justified her accusations. I had no defense against just accusations, even though they pierced right through my heart.

I was unfair to her. To the both of us.

“Your fidelity was never in question Nick. You loved her too much to let someone else in. The heart has but 4 ventricles. And she flows through all of them”

I wince at the analogy, though decidedly apropos. It makes me realize how unfair I'd been to her, even if it was wholly unconscious on my part.

“I’m sorry Drew”. Petty words, I had nothing but petty words to offer, nothing but regret.

“Forget it old man. It got me a few hundred bfs, and a brainless version of Adonis", she raps her knuckles against my shoulders good-naturedly, gifting me with a small smile of forgiveness.

I wish I can be as forgiving as she. Now that the idea's been planted, I begin to wonder just how warped I'd been in my own sense of judgment, how cruel, in tangling her in a relationship when my heart wasn't free.

She gives me another nudge, and I attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"Hmm, did you just call me brainless?"

She laughs aloud, slightly stamping her high heels on my foot in a playful manner.

"Ouch, Drew!" I let out a mock cry of pain, lifting said foot in the air, in the middle of the dance.

"You are the brainy one sweetheart. And the only one beyond reach, to my everlasting regret".

I smile at that, her words echoing my thoughts, as we twirled around in the age-old fashion. It is much later, after finishing the dance, that an unwelcome thought intrudes my senses.

Drew was a great dance partner, but somehow, due to the unfairness of the universe, she had never been the perfect fit for my arms.

I do not stay long after that. Mom had very subtly managed to inform me that Beth had declined the invite. I wasn't much for dancing, and the conversation with Drew had stripped down my appetite. So I say my goodbyes and head for home, stopping at Mac Donald's for a quick take away.

I kill my engine with an outburst loud enough to forewarn her of my arrival, as I park the car. I don't want to startle her with my sudden appearance, given her propensity to jump in fear at the slightest stimulus.

Slowly, and unstealthily, I make my way towards the parlor, anticipating a quiet evening with a chicken burger and a baseball match. What I did not anticipate, was the sight of her curled up on the sofa with a book. I immediately peek at the title of the book. Pride and prejudice. Figures. Again, I stomp my feet to alert her of my presence.

She turns around and smiles at me. My heart takes off in my chest like a rocket, and I give up trying to control it. I do not even try to berate it anymore.

Me and my heart are seldom in accordance. I try to ignore those smiles, my heart keeps detailed records of every twitch of those lips, every twinkle of those eyes. I curse myself for responding, my heart craves the nearness, the proximity.

So yeah, me and my heart are not on speaking terms anymore.

And yes, the situation is completely hopeless.

She had dimmed the lights of the parlor, made some popcorn she was delicately chewing on, poured
herself a
glass of what looked like mango juice, and was currently looking at me through the thick rims of her reading frames, veiling a pair of adorable blue eyes.

"Hi", she offers, suddenly shy as a gorgeous blush begins to cover the visible portion of her body. I quickly avert my gaze, while my heart breaks out in a dance, singing kumbaya on the way.

"Hi yourself", I murmur, placing the takeaway on the table before flopping on the opposite sofa chair.

"You're back early?" she states softly, nervously twirling a rebellious lock with her index finger. Only it sounds more like a question.

"Yeah", and I am not going to elaborate further.

"Haven't you eaten?" she questions suddenly, squinting at the package on the table.

I have absolutely no idea why she looks so cute. I immediately blame on my treacherous heart and my stupid hormones.

"I didn't know you wore glasses", I comment lamely.

There was a lot I did not know about her.

"They are for reading only", she answers and continues to inspect the takeout wrap.

"I wasn't hungry earlier, so yes, I haven't eaten. On my way here, I saw Mc. Donalds, so I thought why not. Then I figured you'd be hungry too", I shrug, and watch that beautiful smile bloom.

"What did you bring me", she asks enthusiastically, dropping her book in haste as she scurries towards the table.

"Big mac", she murmurs, savoring the smell with closed eyes.

God, she looked like a siren, her half eyes closed, sniffing the burger like a rare delicacy. If only I could trade

places with the burger. I squish the stupid thought and leave her with the burger to get some plates.

“Here, stop smelling, start eating.”

We eat and talk, then eat some more, the distance between all but forgotten for a few precious moments. She asks me to describe the dance, and I find myself drawing it out for her. She questions me about the food, about the people, about the dresses. She laughs at me, as I proceed to describe the mundane with great graphic details. However, I draw the line at women's skirts and the mayor's speech. Those were beyond my powers of comprehension, especially the latter.

“Thrice? You danced just thrice?" she asked incredulously between bites.

"You have it the other way round kid. You should compliment me for being able to bear the activity more than once."

"But you said you danced with Drew. I thought you liked it." There's a weird catch in her voice, as she makes that observation. I immediately jump on it like a cat lapping on cream.

"Yes I did, which is more than can be said about my second attempt with Emma", I throw in, not bothering to expand on it. And then I wait for the inevitable. She does not disappoint.

"And you didn't dance after that", she persists with a note of relief. It's like she's happy that I didn't, though she does try to work on convincing me otherwise, with her innocent smiles and guileless eyes.

“I did. Thrice remember. I danced with Drew twice.”

That does it. Her face falls abruptly, and I choke back laughter. A tiny snort escapes though, and she scowls at me.

"Did you now", she quirks her eyebrows in what I call a classic Elizabethan fashion. I give up and laugh out loud, which has her snorting rudely.

“I danced with Mrs. Trudy, then bolted for the doors after she stepped on my toes so hard, it had me swallowing a scream. My toes are now the size of a tennis ball.”

She giggles at that, the same musical one I'd missed so much. We chat some more as she continues to devour the burger, and quickly washes it down with soda.

I lean towards her without a single conscious thought in my brain
, and
wipe the ketchup off the corners of her mouth with my thumb in an old childhood habit of mine.

It was the end to our moment. She freezes on the spot, her huge blue translucent eyes pleading with me, but for what, I had no clue. I yank my hands back as if singed, while the rest of me is suffused with tremors. Talking to her hadn't been on the agenda. I was supposed to have dumped her food on a plate, and taken mine with me to my room. But I just had to make a fool of myself by engaging her in a conversation. And the stupidity did not end there. No, sir. I
just
had
to touch her too.

Was there no end to my foolishness?

I sit up straight, intending to extricate myself from the sofa, when she manages to do something to stop my heart, again.

Keeping her gaze riveted on mine, she holds my hands in her own and places them on her cheek, kissing my palm softly.

"Elizabeth, please". I close my eyes on a vicious oath, battling my desires in an effort to keep up
some
semblance of normality. Of detachment.

"I'm sorry, so sorry Nick, sorrier than you can comprehend. Every day I vow to myself to keep my distance. Every day I watch myself trip. Little mistakes and big ones, which make it more grueling to stay away", she whispers achingly, nuzzling her face against my palm.

"Why do you? Why did you?" I ask in a gruff whisper, mixing my tenses. If she aches the way I do, if she feels half as much as I do for her, why would she want to stay away? How does she?

"I don't have a choice. I can't start what I can't finish".

“It doesn’t work that way Beth”.

“I know, and I’m sorry. That’s all I have to say. I’m sorry”.

Yeah, I echo bitterly. That's all she has to say. Not ‘I love you', but ‘I'm sorry'. It reminds of Drew's argument of having to settle for second-best. Of the futility of having to say you're sorry.

Karma's a prompt and succinct bitch, isn't she.

"I see. And in the meantime you can string me along for some trifling amusement, isn't it? Can't say I blame you, Beth, seeing as I've been more than willing to play your puppet", I declare, full of resentment and self- loathing. Five years now, and she still holds the power to pull my strings, to play my heart for the fool it is.

"One wonders, whether you were always like this", I continue, letting my tongue spew the venom. " A remarkable fake who fabricated feelings, pretended love she didn't feel, flirted with emotions she couldn't comprehend, and did not reciprocate. How you must have laughed at me, Beth. The eternal fool, the dog who comes sniffing at the snap of your fingers, practically begging you for attention. But of course, you ran away for little periods of time ever year, it's hard to keep the facade after all. One needs those pockets of escape. It makes me wonder how you managed to endure us for such lengths of time before running away permanently. It's a strain on one's nerves."

She doesn't say anything, doesn't speak a word. Neither does she try to stop me once, or control her tears. They flow freely, silently, achingly, the sight of them filling me with agony and remorse. I raise my hands to wipe them off, but she just shakes her head and closes her eyes. And I hate myself in this moment, loathe myself for saying those words, for being reduced to this cruel wretch who lashes by digging up old wounds, and does it as painfully as possible. It wasn't her fault if she couldn't love me enough to finish what we once started. That pain was mine and mine alone to bear.