Torment Me (Rough Love 1)

I sighed, because it was impossible to be in love with someone you didn’t know, someone who would never let you know them. The driver looked over at me.

“Such a sigh. You’re too young to sigh like that.”

“I’m almost thirty,” I said. “Not too young.”

“But it’s a beautiful day.”

“It is,” I said. The sun was out. There were probably rainbows somewhere. “I’m leaving my boyfriend today. He used drugs. He hit me.”

That wasn’t the whole story. In fact, it was a ridiculously abridged version of my relationship with Simon, but it made sense to the cabbie. He nodded his approval. “That’s good. Very good. You won’t go back, will you? You’re not the first one of these I’ve had in my cab. But too often, they change their mind and go back.”

“I won’t go back. It took me way too long to be able to leave. I’m afraid to go back.”

“Don’t go back,” he persisted. He was older. I wondered what kind of craziness he’d encountered in his life.

“I won’t go back,” I promised. “I’m only moving forward from now on. I’m going to go to school, get a good job and make something of my life.”

He was so proud of my newfound resolutions that he parked the cab and helped me lug my bags and boxes all the way to the elevator, and I was so grateful for his kindness that I gave him a huge tip. The doorman helped me the rest of the way, right to the entrance of my new home.

I held my breath as I turned the key and opened the door. While he dragged in my boxes and suitcases, I looked around at the most elegantly furnished residence I’d ever seen. Two bedrooms, two baths, turn-of-the-century styling. This was exactly the type of building and apartment I imagined W would like. White, glossy, clean, classic. Somehow I knew he’d lived here. At some point, these ecru sofas and gleaming fixtures and white walls had been his home, if only for a few weeks.

It was so beautiful and peaceful, with an open floor plan, lots of windows, and a view of the Empire State Building. I felt protected high above the city, and high above my problems here on the sixth floor. Everything I needed was already here. White porcelain dishes in the kitchen, stainless pots and pans that looked like they’d never been used. There was a king size bed with a huge white comforter, piles of white pillows, and folded sets of linens in the closet. The master bedroom was luxurious enough to be a Four Seasons hotel room, but it wasn’t. It was my bedroom, in my new home.

I lay on the bed and thought to myself, he’s slept here.

And then I thought, maybe he’ll sleep here again someday.

It was so easy, and so dangerous, to make that leap in thinking. I didn’t have a boyfriend anymore. Maybe W and I could develop a closer relationship, a real relationship. He didn’t seem like the boyfriend type…but maybe…

No. Pure romantic dreams. I pushed them out of my head. With anyone else, the gift of a three million dollar apartment might look like commitment, but I knew him well enough to know this wasn’t a commitment. This was an assertion of dominance. He’d wanted me to get away from Simon, and this was how he accomplished what he wanted. This apartment was an expression of his will.

And it was beautiful, airy, pristine, and freeing.

His will had set me free, and I planned to capitalize on the opportunity he’d given me, starting today.

The Carlyle Session

I spent the next six days sleeping, eating, bathing, and staring out the picture window of my new place. I needed a little hibernation. I had a lot to work through in my head.

It wasn’t that hard to let go of Simon, even after all our years together, and all the memories. I felt as if I’d escaped, so I had no intention of unblocking him on my phone, or telling him where I lived. No, letting go of Simon was the easy part. Picturing him in Rachel’s arms helped.

The more complicated part was letting go of the old Chere and finding the new Chere. I spent a lot of time considering what I wanted to do.

Without rent to pay, and Simon’s drug habit to eat up my savings, I’d have enough money to start looking into degree programs. I started reading about local colleges and trade schools that offered scholarships to non-traditional students.

Design. I’d always been interested in design.

Not just because W said he was interested in design, although that was part of it. The main reason was that I wanted to do something creative, and design seemed like a way to be creative and practical at the same time. I’d seen Simon scrounge for years as a painter, a fine artist, and that lifestyle wasn’t for me. I wanted to be a practical artist, and design practical and beautiful things, like the dishware in my new kitchen cabinets or the etched brass drawer pulls in the master bath. I could design wallpaper to cover the white walls, I could design shoes, jewelry, purses. All of these were things I noticed and loved, and things I could create while working for one of the hundreds of design firms in New York City.