Come Alive (The Cityscape 2)

I didn’t know when the sun had set, or how long I’d been standing in the doorway. The day had been a haze of crying and vomiting and fits of broken sleep. After calling Beman to say I was sick, Gretchen had insisted on staying with me. I’d sent her away. I’d caused enough hurt to everyone already, and I’d needed to be alone with my thoughts – to live alone through the mess I’d made.

The skies were dark grey, and a light fog infiltrated the city. Clouds weighty with rain crept languorously across the sky, settling overhead like an old man in his favorite chair. My mood was as heavy as the threatening storm, and I let the gloom wrap itself around me like a cloak. The air was thick, and the rain started abruptly and severely, suggesting a violent tempest.

The faintest glow came through the window as the day ended, casting darkness everywhere it didn’t touch. The light switch flipped with an empty thud. I felt my way to the hallway closet, where we kept candles for the times when the electricity cut out. I lit each one in the bedroom along with the decorative ones that were already out. Little tea candles glowed, and the room filled with scents of cinnamon and vanilla.

I sat alone in the silence, on the edge of my plush white comforter, unsure of what to do with myself. Everything was eerily still, and all I heard was the increasing violence of the falling rain. Lightning lit up the room. As when I was a child, I counted – one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand – until I heard thunder cackle somewhere in the distance. I thought of David and our last words to each other.

There came a slow but deliberate rap against the apartment door – knock, knock, knock. I passed the bedroom mirror. By habit, I glanced at my reflection. I could only see the faint glow of my pale skin against Bill’s navy crewneck sweater. It hung from my shoulders down to my mid-thighs and over ratty jeans. My hand went instinctively to the hair knotted at the top of my head, and I tucked some renegade pieces behind my ear. I was thankful that it was likely only Gretchen, back to check on me.

I put my cheek to the door. “Who is it?”

“Open the door, Olivia.” David.

The wood burned against my cheek, and I suddenly felt hot in Bill’s sweater. Life seeped out of my muscles, leaving them fatigued. I didn’t say anything, but fitted myself against the door.

“Olivia.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked so softly that I doubted he had even heard. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you want me to tell the whole hallway why I’m here?” he countered in a voice equally as low. I unlatched the door and looked at him with hard eyes. He pushed his way in, slamming the door behind him. He followed me into the bedroom where the lighting was slightly more affable than the dank kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “You can’t come here. Ever.” I knew by the look on his face that he heard the wavering in my voice. Sweat trickled down my stomach, and my jeans stuck to my legs, stifling me. I slid a window open and turned to face him.

He surprised me with his next words. “I didn’t want to come. I meant what I said in my office, and I’m furious that you didn’t give me the chance to explain. I deserved that chance.”

I widened my eyes at him. “You’re furious? How dare you?”

He held up his hand. “Do not interrupt me.”

I recoiled as though he’d slapped me, and my nostrils flared.

“Gretchen called me,” he deadpanned.

My jaw dropped. “She what?”

“She told me that Bill’s out of town and that I should come immediately.”

That was when I noticed the dark scruff on his face. His wild black hair, damp from the rain and his hooded chestnut eyes that glowed in the candlelight. His impeccable posture remained, but he was a different man, his composure cracked.

“Why did you come?” I pleaded. “You promised you wouldn’t chase me.” My chin trembled. “You’re making this too hard. You can’t be here in my husband’s home.”

“And where is your husband? Where is he ever?” he asked angrily. He grasped my chin between two fingers, inspecting my tear-streaked face until I jerked away. “How could he leave you like this?”

Though his eyes were tired, there was determination there. I crossed my arms into my body, depressed my welling chest and braced myself for the conversation I thought would never happen. “You lied to me,” I said. “And you hurt me that night at the ball.”

“I know that I hurt you, and I’ve spent weeks regretting that night. But the idea of him touching you – holding you, dancing with you, when it should have been me . . . The hardest part was that you looked so goddamn happy. It ripped my heart out.”

“You made me feel like trash.”

“I lost control,” he uttered, swallowing audibly. “I saw red, and I should have left the party immediately. I never meant to make you feel that way.” His bearing was stiff, almost cold, but he flinched when he said, “For that, I’m sorry.”

“None of this matters, David. Just say what you have to say, and get out.”

He scrubbed his face a moment and sighed. His jaw worked from side to side. “There’s no excuse for buying the house. But here’s the truth. Everything. I don’t care anymore if you’re ready to hear it. But you have to know that this is the truth, because I’m not going to repeat myself.”

I didn’t respond, but crossed my arms tighter.

“When you told me that Bill had made an offer, I panicked. I’d never been as scared as I was in that moment. I could not – would not – let him buy that house. I instructed my realtor to make the owners an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. “Because of a measly profit? I thought you were – ”

“Because I wanted it to be me.”

I blinked my eyes open.

“Because I wanted to be the one buying you your dream home and fixing it up for you. I wanted us to be the ones to grow old in it.”

The memory of David in the house flooded over me, and I gripped the ends of my sleeves. It was so real; I had seen him there. Did he see us there too?

He looked so painfully beautiful in the candlelight. His shadowed face was raw with emotion, and I wanted to pull him to me. I had spent months fantasizing about pulling him to me and never letting him go. “That’s what you want?” I asked. “That home?”

“I want it with you. Only you. Because we belong there.”

I inhaled deeply, absorbing the meaning of his gesture. A future – with me. He’d had enough faith in our connection that he’d bought a house, even knowing it might drive me away. And I – oh, I could see it. I wanted those things too. It was a future that sounded right, that didn’t scare me. But none of that changed the facts. It didn’t change the past or the present.

Silence crept into the space between us, save the pounding of the rain outside. Flames danced in the wind. He stepped towards me slowly, as if testing the water.

“No,” I said firmly and held up my hands. My voice broke. “You have to go.”

“I love you.”

I gaped at him. Love? When had love come into this? But hadn’t I known it all along? And didn’t I love him too?

But I shook my head. “No, David, no. I can’t . . . We can’t.” I felt the threat of fresh tears. “You don’t love me.”

“I love you.” He stepped closer and pulled me into his arms, but I pushed against his chest violently.

“No,” I said loudly, and he took a step back.

“I loved you from the start, don’t you know that? I never stood a chance.”

Lightning illuminated his face, and an unsteady future flashed before my eyes. The low, deep growl of thunder rumbled directly above us before cracking like a lion tamer’s whip. I burned, like my vanilla candle, and yearned, my fingertips tingling with impatience to feel him.

Instead, I looked down. The carpet sprouted between my toes, and I wished I could crawl into the floor to hide in its welcoming softness. Because I knew what would happen

next. I felt like crying, like running into the rain and letting it merge with my tears. The pendulum of emotion inside me swung high and fierce.

When I looked back at him, he basked in the soft yellow glow. My pulse quickened in seconds. He didn’t even need to touch me.

He fell to his knees in front of me, pulled up my sweater and kissed the skin underneath. Slowly, he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down before running his hands over my legs.

His lips explored me, kissing the backs of my sweat-dampened knees, the insides of my thighs, then my pubic bone through my panties. My legs trembled as I stepped out of my pants, away from him. He cast them aside and pulled me forward by my sweater. He rocked back off his knees and leaned forward to put his mouth on my parted lips but stopped inches away. He remained there as though he were sucking my spirit out through my mouth, and not only my spirit but my heart, which beat faster and faster because I’m afraid, David, so afraid.