“Perfect.” I tell her, still trying to be cheerful. She’s been trying to convince me to move back to Ashford and take a job at the local grocery store. In her opinion, I won’t be as lonely there as I am in Bellevue, but I know that’s not true. I’ll be lonely everywhere. I’ll be lonely in a roomful of people, as long as David isn’t there.
“You don’t have to pretend with me Sophie,” Stacey says kindly, “I know it’s got to be hard.”
It is hard. Every day is more painful than the last. I feel like an awful, yearning, mess inside, but I don’t want to talk about it.
I don’t want to talk about him.
David.
When I stay silent, she sighs. “I wish you’d consider coming back to Ashford.”
“I can’t.” I tell her earnestly, “and it’s not just that I don’t want to, as soon as I have enough money saved I’m going to take some courses so I can get a job in jewelry design sometime in future.” I pause, hoping that this time, she’ll actually be convinced to drop it, “I have a better chance of doing all that here than back in Ashford.”
“Oh well.” She agrees reluctantly. “At least you have a plan. That’s a good thing.”
I sigh. “I hope so.”
She is silent for a few moments. “Have you heard anything from David?” She asks softly.
Just the sound of his name and I feel as if I can’t breathe. The permanent yearning ache in my heart intensifies, and I have a sudden desire to burst into tears.
I
was so sure when I left him, that it was the right thing to do. When I told him I never wanted to see him again, it was because I was so sure that what I needed most was to start over, without him, that being alone was a better option than being with the man who declared that our marriage, our entire relationship, had always been only about sex.
Now I’m not so sure. After weeks of carrying my loneliness and my desire for him around with me, I’m not even sure how I feel about anything anymore.
Have I heard anything from him? Well no, and that’s the part that hurts the most.
The last time I saw David, I told him I never wanted to see him again. He left, and even though I desperately hope that I’m wrong, I’m afraid that now, he has no intention of seeing me again either. I try not to think about how barren, how empty my life feels now, how the possibility of that barrenness stretching for eternity tortures me. I feel like I’m barely holding on, as if any moment I’ll break, shatter into pieces that only David can put back together.
The day after I left the hotel and moved into my new apartment, Steve delivered two cases packed with some of my stuff from David’s apartment. When the doorbell rang, my heart leapt with the hope that it would be David again, coming to insist that I return to Seattle with him, just like he had at the hotel. I’d been battling with anticipation and dread when I opened the door and saw Steve’s bulky frame dwarfing the whole hallway.
“Good evening Mrs. Preston.” He’d said, waiting for me to move aside before carrying the cases inside my apartment. If he saw the disappointment on my face, he didn’t show it.
I didn’t waste any time wondering how David knew that I had moved, and where to. It was David after all. I lingered at the door, looking down the hallway, unhappy at the dawning realization that Steve was alone.
“It’s just me.” I heard Steve say, his voice a little quieter, graver than I remembered.
I swallowed, embarrassed, then my eyes went to the cases he was still carrying, waiting for me to tell him where to put them.
“What are those?” I asked warily.
“I don’t really know.” Steve told me. “Mr. Preston wanted them brought here to you.”
“I don’t want them here.” I said. I didn’t care what they were. My yearning had already turned to resentment, at David, at myself, at how eager I was to see him again.
“I could take them back,” Steve said quietly, “but Mr. Preston would just have me bring them back, or maybe bring them himself.”
For a moment, I was tempted. I imagined David in my tiny apartment, beautiful and implacable, fiercely demanding that I listen to him. I flushed, my traitorous body reacting to the image in my mind. No, I decided, his presence would only break down my resolve and fill my mind with the knowledge of how much I want him, not how much he hurt me. I sighed. There’s nothing as hard as wanting someone so much it’s almost unbearable, and knowing that being with them would be so much worse.
“Just put them down Steve.” I said, giving in.
He placed the cases on the floor in a corner of the living room, the largest part of the space that had been artfully split into a sleeping area, living area and a kitchen area. All together, it was still much smaller than any one of the three bedrooms in David’s apartment.
Steve straightened. I waited, hoping pathetically that there would be something else, a message from David maybe. “Would you like something to drink?” I offered politely.
“Some water.” He accepted, surprising me. I don’t think I’d ever seen him eat or drink anything before. I went to the counter that marked the kitchen area and poured him a glass of water, gesturing for him to sit on one of the stools next to the counter. For some reason, I wasn’t eager for him to go. Even though he wasn’t the object of my obsession, his connection to David made his presence welcome.