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He made me forget. Even just for the briefest of moments, I wasn't the girl who had been raped, or the girl who had been lucky to survive horrific injuries. I wasn't the girl who felt she had no place in the world. I was me.
Emma.
When I was with Simon I felt wanted. I felt needed. Even if that need could never be fulfilled, it was still there.
The sliding door squealed as I slid it open. Wide open. I sat in the doorway, the feel of the wind blowing in my face, the security of the frame my only protection. My eyes closed. I focused on the good. I could hear the birds above me. It sounded like they’d created a nest in the roof. Tiny little chirps sang out in unison. I could hear the downtown traffic in the distance. Horns, sirens. Sounds that made me anxious and upset. Voices sang out around me.
People walking past below, chattering, and the television of my next door neighbour. A baby crying in the apartment block opposite me. I slid the door shut and pulled myself to my feet. From the protection of the window, I stood looking out over my balcony. The grey clouds looked threatening, as though they were going to release rain at any moment. The trees in the park adjacent to me swayed erratically in the wind. I could see what appeared to be a kite caught in a tree branch. A small child cried hysterically as a man tried to fish it down. Finally I moved away. It felt so good to take a step forward. I deserved a reward. I ran the bath, filling it with a special bubble bath gran had given me for my birthday last year.
Back in the kitchen, the kettle was almost boiled. I rummaged through my herbal teas, finally deciding on a green and Jasmin infusion. Beep.
I still can’t believe you made me watch that crap. I feel like you’ve made me less of a man.
The usual feeling I got when he texted engulfed my body. True, last night I had forced him into watching Runaway Bride. Only after he forced me to watch The Transporter. It was as though we were trying to see who could cause the other more pain. Though I still didn’t understand how watching Richard Gere could ever be seen as a punishment.
A real man wouldn’t have felt threatened by watching Richard Gere in the first place. Maybe I’m making you more of a man.
I slid the phone into the pocket of my dressing gown and headed back to the bathroom. I set my tea and phone on the vanity then walked over to the bubbling water. Dipping my hand in, I was happy it was just the right temperature. Too often I made the water way too hot, causing what felt like third degree burns when I finally slid in. My phone beeped again.
Richard Gere never makes anyone more of a man. I think we need to settle this over a drink. What are your plans for tonight?
My plans for the night so far involved me in front of the television with a can of beer and maybe some corn chips. That was, until Simon invited himself over.
Simon sat on the couch, singing along to American Idol. I eyed him from the other end of the couch.
“You’re very distracting, you know.” He raised his eyebrows and jumped up. Suddenly, he was dancing around the room, toward me.
Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body,
But I know not everybody has a body like you.
He grabbed hold of my hands and pulled me to my feet. I shook my head. I was embarrassed for the poor guy. He was a shocking singer, and an even worse dancer. But at that moment he was so damn sexy. My tongue brushed over my lips. Forgetting to breathe tended to make my lips dry. I giggled as he circled me around the room. He would be a nightmare to take to a concert. He would be the guy who thinks he can sing better and louder than anyone else, including the artist.
“You are such a dag.” I groaned. He had stopped singing, and had pulled me in close. I hated being this close to him. He had no idea what being this close to him did to me. His breath exhaled on my cheek, so warm. He cupped my chin gently. His touch made me tingle as he ran his finger slowly down my cheek, tracing over my lips. I kissed his finger.
“You have no idea how stunning you are.” He whispered. He was about to kiss me. I could feel it as the distance between us began to close. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled away.
“I’m sorry Em.” He turned, cursing himself. I'd never seen him so angry. So frustrated.
“Fuck!” he yelled, kicking the side of the bench. I jumped. His anger, even though I knew it wasn't directed at me, rippled through me. I didn’t handle anger well. The usual signs were all there, suggesting I would break down at any minute. The feeling of tears in the back of my throat, the ball of anxiety in my stomach, stretching, growing. My breathing increased rapidly.
“Please stop.” I whispered. I wiped away the tears that were threatening to ruin my make-up.
Simon looked bewildered.
“Emma, what's wrong? I wasn't angry at you. I'm just frustrated with myself.” his voice cracked. His eyes, full of concern, were clouded with just as much confusion.
He had no idea why I was upset. He couldn't know, which made me feel that much worse.
“Please go. Just go. I'm sorry.” I sobbed. I covered my face with my hands in an attempt to hide the tears. I fled to the couch. Simon followed, not knowing what to do.
“Emma. Did I do something? Please tell me.” He begged, falling to his knees in front of me. He reached out for my hand. I jumped at his touch, but didn't pull away.
“Please Simon. There are things you need to know, but I can’t. Not now. Please go.” I begged. I squeezed his hand then pushed him away. He rose, debating with himself on what to do. He stood there for what felt like hours. Finally, he sighed.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. He gathered up his things and left. I collapsed on the sofa in tears. I reached for my phone and texted Cass.
It took Cass less than ten minutes to be at my house. She found me in the bedroom, crying. Crying really wasn't the right word. I was bawling my eyes out. And the worst thing was once I started I just couldn't stop. I'd ruined everything. Not that it mattered now. We clearly couldn't be only friends, and we couldn't be together.
