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“It’s not funny, Lennox. You said you were ‘an asshole not a monster’ but you are a monster!” I make air quotes about the little joke he’d always make while doing something obnoxious than sweet tw
o seconds later. “I was real. You hurt me. You destroyed us.”
“No,” he grabs my hand but I pull it away. “Jesus, please stop, please let me hold you.”
“You lost that privilege when you fucked half of London!” I back away from him.
He follows my steps, “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. You know that.”
“I don’t know that! Have you seen the fucking photos? How could you!” I am yelling now. If hotel security comes, that’s fine with me, they can haul him away.
“All I ever wanted was for you to trust me and you still can’t.” He takes a step back and grabs fistfuls of hair on his head.
“I did, and you broke it!” I poke my finger at him. I am quaking from emotion.
“I know I was an asshole but I did not touch anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. Mal…”
“Tell it to Kate,” I snarl at him.
“Oh fucking hell,” he turns his back to me with his hands on his hips. He paces a few steps before turning back. “There was no Kate! There is no Kate!” He’s yelling too now.
“It doesn’t matter, you are deliberately being cruel and I will never believe you!” I scream and look him in the eye and watch his face change. He looks like I slapped him. Like he’s just been hit with the finality I’ve already come to realize, if not accept.
There’s a long pause where all I can hear is my heartbeat before he finally says, “Well, I guess that’s that, then.”
“Looks that way.” I stare at the wooden desk. He moves toward the exit but pauses. My insides are turning inside out, panicking because once he walks out of this room it’s really over. I have to fight my body to not beg him to stay.
“You know, no matter how pathetic it makes me, I still wanted you. Even after you made my worst nightmare come true. I still wanted you. I would have forgiven you.” He reaches for the door.
“I did not betray you!” I scream and stomp my foot.
His head hangs down to the floor and he nods at his feet, then looks back to me. “But you did. You’ve been lying to me just like the rest of them. I begged you to let me handle this. I would have given it all up for you.”
“Given it up?” I rave at him. “Are you mad? This is your dream! Everything you’ve worked…”
“No,” he interrupts me. “I just needed you to trust me. You were my dream.” He opens the door and starts to leave but turns back. “I love you, Mal. Goodbye.”
Twenty Eight
“These are just flames, burning in your fireplace. I hear your voice and it seems as if it was all a dream, I wish it was all a dream.” - The Head and the Heart - Another Story
Lennox
I don’t know why I bought this house. I envisioned a home, but it isn’t. It’s a house. A giant, empty house with black stones as dark as my heart. It’s been almost two weeks now since I’ve locked myself up here like the monster in the castle. How fitting.
I quit checking my phone, no good has ever come from it. I feed the bloody cats then slip back into bed and sleep all day. The cleaning service had long since changed all the sheets by the time I pulled up the drive so any traces of her were long gone. Just as well, there are enough memories lingering to haunt my every step no matter where I go here.
I don’t go to the cliff because I remember holding her there. I can’t walk into the kitchen without picturing her making breakfast and wrapping my hands around her from behind, nuzzling her neck. The living room where we made love on the floor, Mallory trying to pin my hands down and teasing me into losing my mind, which was inevitable. I need to sell that stupid Harley, too. Give it to charity or something. I don’t want to see it.
Eventually, it’ll fade away.
I can either lay around streaming Netflix off the satellite internet and do my best to avoid old horror movies or I can pick up another house project that I’ve started but never finished. Or I can continue to sit outside at the fire pit drinking scotch all day and watch the flames dance and flicker and listen to the wood crackle.
It’s as warm as it gets in Scotland now, when the grass is long and lush and the seabirds are busy with their hatchlings along the cliffs. Warm salty breezes pass over me and make the brush whistle. When I built this fire pit I thought I’d sit around it in weather like this, but with friends and family, a woman I hadn’t yet met who would fill this place with love and make it a home. But it’s still just me kicking around the ninety-six acres by myself.
Isolating myself because no connection is better than an inauthentic one. Hollow is better than hurt. No words whispered in my ear is better than lies.
I hear rocks crunching between tires and swivel to stare down the long, winding gravel drive. Pop’s old blue Mitsubishi pick up truck is ambling down the path. I don’t know why he insists on driving that damn thing, it’s beat to shit and I bought him a new one ages ago.
