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“Sometimes I think I purposefully put myself into that mess to self-destruct.”
“Did you?”
“I don’t know. Probably. I was working so hard and to my own detriment, I didn’t stop for anything. My parents were so proud while inside I was screaming. My health got so bad. It was all. So. Bad. I started drinking heavily and went from having an attack every few weeks to daily. I spent years conditioning myself to stop listening to my body, and in a matter of days all my fears came to light and I mean all of them. Everything was gone, every single damn thing I’d worked for since I was in grade-school up to that point vanished.”
“What happened?”
“I was in the midst of setting up one of the biggest real estate deals in New York. I was showing a property to a slew of investors. It was a billion-dollar deal. My job was to sell a set of high-rise buildings that were going to be turned into high-value condos, posh, exclusive, that sort of thing. I worked on it for a year. The day before I was set to pitch I was doing a walk-through of one of the buildings and I got attacked by a squatter.” I shivered at the thought of that day. “He pulled a knife on me.”
“Jesus.”
“I barely made it out of there with my life and that’s no exaggeration. One of my associates walked in and that’s what saved me. But that incident opened up a whole different can of worms.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say, I’ve done more research on the hereafter than most theologists.”
“Fear of death?”
“Yes.”
Ian grabbed my hand and I let him hold it between his.
“A majority of my anxiety comes from lack of control. I have to have things a certain way, not so much OCD but to the point where I know what will happen in my every day. I’m not a fan of surprises. Routine is crucial to me, I’d never experienced anything like I did that day. And as you can imagine the realization about death, well let’s save that conversation for a rainy day or never.”
I was shaking as I remembered the man on the beach chair that morning. Ian read my thoughts.
“Today, you had a horrible attack.” It was a statement. “And you joked about it. That’s what you do with everyone else?”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “Yes.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“You couldn’t have. It’s not your place.”
“My job as much as it is yours, right?”
He turned my palm up and slowly brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. A small moan escaped me, and I wasn’t sure if he heard it.
“What happened? With the deal?” He rested my hand on his shoulder as if it was the most natural thing. I was itching to run my fingers through his hair. My breaths came out faster, his subtle seduction was wrecking my train of thought.
“What happened?”
“The next day I was expected to move on as if it never happened. Unsympathetic boss, the show must go on, that type of thing. Anyway, I blew it. As soon as I entered the building with the buyers, I had the mother of all attacks. I was fired because I’d potentially blown one of the biggest deals in real estate history, though we all knew the real reason why. I had my first public meltdown on what should have been one of the best days of my career, a huge milestone for me. With that deal put to bed, the possibilities were endless, my commission would have made me wealthy, I would have made a name for myself, yadda, yadda. But in the blink of an eye, it was gone.” Tears blurred my vision as he looked up to me and I smiled. “In a way, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t see it then when I was racing down snow-filled streets with a box full of my shit, having the worst day of my life. I didn’t see it hours later when I abandoned my apartment in New York, my friends, my boyfriend, my family and took a cab to the airport. And I didn’t see it in the weeks after as I stared at this ocean, or a month after that when Jasmine discovered me cowering in a bathroom of a Mexican restaurant after another attack. It’s now, now where I truly understand what a blessing it was to give up the charade. Instead of continuing to live a life I couldn’t live, I chose me.”
“You chose wisely.”
“I did. But you don’t understand, Ian. I wanted that life. I did, so badly, for myself, for my parents, but I couldn’t be that Koti and I never will be. There’s a difference between can’t and won’t. Can’t sucks
. And I was good at it. I was really good at it. I loved my job, that part of it was never a lie. I loved my apartment. I loved New York most of the time. This, living here, wasn’t supposed to be my life.”
“Koti,” he said softly, “no part of you reeks of a mogul. Not that I don’t think you were capable, but I just don’t see you as that type. And your parents must not know you at all.”
“My dad, he knew. He just let my mother do most of the parenting and I know it breaks his heart and my leaving New York broke the rest of it. He feels like he failed me, he thinks I’m punishing him, but I came here to save myself. I don’t ever want to go back. I don’t resent him. I’m not even that angry with my mother. All of it, everything that happened, even my brush with death was a means to an end. It was my one and only warning to rid myself of a life that was slowly killing me anyway. I obeyed. I yielded to that warning. And so, I’m here living someone else’s life, in someone else’s house staring at someone else’s ocean.” I sighed. “Anyway, it’s over, I’m here. I’ve made peace with it and I’m not wasting any more time pretending to be someone I can’t be.”
Ian’s body shook with an ironic laugh. “You really are a good muse.”
“Glad you seem to think so.” I sighed. “So, there’s my five-minute sob story. Surprised?”
