Storm (Ashes & Embers 1)

“That would actually be great. I apologize, it’s just been a crazy day, and this is really a surprise.”

Her voice is sweet and comforting. “Evelyn, no worries at all. It’s a big decision. If you have any questions, you just let me know. I will really be delighted though if you accept. I have a feeling you could use a change, a new path maybe.”

I laugh softly in agreement. “That’s true, I really could.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. Give me a buzz tomorrow and we’ll talk. Have a good night, sweetie.”

“You, too. And thank you so much for thinking of me.”

I lay back on the loveseat and stare up at the ceiling. So many decisions to be made that it’s making my head hurt. For years, my life has been the same, unchanging—days just passing, one fading into the next with no real difference. All these changes on the horizon are scary. Making decisions is not exactly my strong point and now I have many to be made all at once. I want to go to bed and just hide from all of this.

No. That’s what the old Evelyn would do, and spent years doing. The new Evelyn, the new me, isn’t going to run and hide and let life pass her by anymore. I stand and walk across the room to the mantle, where the snow globe that Storm gave me is perched. I pick it up, shake it gently, and watch the tiny snowflakes swirl. Getting lost that day completely changed my life.

Chapter Eighteen

Two weeks. Fourteen days. A new home. A new job. And Storm.

I can do this.

Giving notice at my job wasn’t easy. I agonized over what to say. I felt guilty for leaving as if my departure would have any impact on the company. I liked to hope that it would, but according to Jack’s last words, I had become completely useless as of late. Ouch.

I arranged for cable TV, Internet, and phone services to be turned on at my new apartment. Jane has been nice enough to let me stop by several times before my official move-in date so I could slowly bring over some of my belongings and stock the refrigerator and cabinets with groceries.

I miss Storm like mad while he’s been touring, but being apart has also brought us closer together. Hours spent on the phone at night and countless text messages have given us the opportunity to talk about everything under the sun. I’m falling in love with him more and more each day, my fears and wariness slowly dissipating. He is patient and understanding. He listens when I need him to and nudges me when I need a bit of a push. We’ve included the bunny on a few of our phone calls, each time a little bit more erotic than the last. The man has a major sensual side that I am slowly growing less afraid of.

Tonight I will tell Michael, the man I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life with that I am no longer in love with him. I have no idea how he’ll react. Will he be mad? Glad? I truly don’t know. He’s become a stranger to me these past few weeks. As I slowly pulled myself away from him, I realized that there wasn’t much to our relationship at all. It was my attention, my conversation, my plans that filled the majority of our relationship. Once I stopped those things, the emptiness between us inflated like a balloon. He still calls me every day, but these calls seem obligatory in nature. A check-in, for lack of a better description.

I debate for days on how best to end things. I consider just leaving him a letter and moving out while he’s out of town. That seems like a douchey maneuver, however, after spending twelve years together. Letting him come home to a letter stating his girlfriend had moved out while he was on a business trip seemed pretty rude, even though it would save me the awkwardness of a face-to-face confrontation.

I don’t deserve the easy way out. I’ve behaved badly, and if he screams and yells, I deserve it. Unplanned or not, the things I’ve done with Storm should have never happened while I was still in a relationship. I have a strong suspicion that Michael has had another girlfriend for quite a while, but I should not have let myself sink to that level. I value commitment, I thrive on it, and I expect it. And I always gave it. Until Storm came along and rocked my world off its axis.

Storm asked me to wait until he is back in town to tell Michael, in case I need him. I don’t feel comfortable with that. Living with Michael for another two weeks, knowing I have a secret apartment set up and a lover coming home to me, would drive the guilt further and further into me. I don’t want any more of it.

Waiting on the couch for Michael, I look around our home and realize it’s devoid of anything ‘us.’ There are no photos of us on the walls. There are no objects that he gave me or I gave him. I’m not sure how I’ve never noticed this before. Or am I just looking for things to be wrong?

I don’t know.

He comes in a little before dinnertime and throws his bags on the floor. He looks a little bit ruffled his short hair messier than usual, his shirt not tucked in.

“Hey.” He says when he sees me

“Hi.”

He goes into the kitchen and comes back out a few seconds later with a beer.

“Michael, I need to talk to you.”

He nods at me but doesn’t look at me. He’s sifting through the mail I had left on the coffee table. “I gotta take a shower. We can talk later if ya want.”

I stand my ground. “No, I’d like to talk now, please.”

He throws the mail back on the table and sits on the arm of the couch, leaning his beer against his leg.

“Fine. What’s up?”

I take a deep breath. My insides are shaking. Once I do this, there’s no turning back. I will never be able to fix this or undo this decision.

“I’m not exactly sure how to even say this, so I’m just going to say it. I’m moving out.”

He blinks at me a few times, and his lip starts to twitch. I’ve seen that twitch a thousand times when he’s annoyed.

“What?”

“I’m moving out. I found an apartment. Things just aren’t good between us, Michael. I’m sorry. I just need to end this.”

A disgusted smile crosses his lips. “You’re leaving me?”

I nod, a little nervous that he seems angrier than I expected him to be. “Yes. We’re not happy together... you’re never home.”

“I’m fucking working, Evelyn.”

“I know... but I’m still alone all the time. I don’t like it.”

He takes a gulp of his beer. “You sound like a fucking baby. I can’t babysit you 24/7.”

I wince at his words. Yes, I have been clingy in the past. But I have been better in the past two years, trying to keep myself occupied with work, and not asking him to do things with me as much as I used to.

“I understand that. And I don’t want you to.”

“What the hell is going on? I come home from working my ass off and sitting on a goddamn plane all day, and I have to come home to this bullshit from you?”

“I’m in love with someone else. And I’m not quite sure of your fidelity either, considering I’ve found a bracelet in our couch.”

He stands up and paces the room. “I told you where that came from. And what do you mean you’re in love with someone else?”

I pull one of the couch pillows onto my lap and rub my hand over it absently. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. Tell me something, Michael. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’ve been faithful? Can you tell me you’re in love with me?”

His blue eyes hold mine for a long time, at first defiant, and then his gaze drops to the floor. He shakes his head. “No. I can’t.” He looks back up at me. “Not to either. I’m sorry.”

His words hurt deeply, but I can’t say I’m surprised. I sit in silence for a few moments, just letting the truth sink in.

“I do love you, Ev. But things have been difficult. Your depression

and anxiety over every fucking thing... it’s been exhausting for me. I don’t know how to deal with it. After your parents had died, you changed. You stopped smiling. You used to be so much fun, so silly and full of life. I was too young to deal with the responsibility of caring for someone so full of grief. I know that’s not your fault. I’m not an asshole, Ev. You know that. But I didn’t want to be dragged into your hole with you.”

“If I was so horrible, why did you stay all these years?” My voice is louder than I want it to be, but I’m mad he’s thrown my depression into my face. All these years, I thought he was the understanding boyfriend, while inside he was slowly hating me. I feel emotionally betrayed, embarrassed even that I cried in front of him so many times, thinking he understood what I was going through.

“How could I leave? You were a mess. I was afraid another loss would throw you over the fucking edge.”

I lose it right then. My soul just cracks. “So you felt sorry for me all these years? That’s all it’s been for almost twelve years? Pity for the poor depressed girl?”

“I guess in a way, yes, if you want to put it that way. I kept hoping you would snap out of it. Evelyn, think about it, back then, you wouldn’t even let me near you. You froze every time I touched you. You still do.”

My strength is slowly fading, the demons taking over again. Reminding me of who and what I am. Inadequate. Damaged. Emotionally unstable. I have spent years of my life with someone who felt sorry for me. Who was afraid to leave me because they thought I would hurt myself or sink deeper into a hole. I suppose I should feel grateful that he stayed at all, that he cared enough to not put me through that. But I don’t.

He sits on the couch, closer to me but not too close. “Ev, I’m sorry. I thought that by just letting things be for a while would be best for you. I thought it would either get better or I would eventually leave. But one year turned into two, then two into three...”

“Well, I’m sorry we wasted so many fucking years together.”