Chapter 13- Unwanted

"Imogen, answer me." The younger girl remained mute. Stretching her arm out, Fiona turned Imogen's face to meet her eyes. "Are you no longer in love with me?"

Unable to continue looking into the glacial eyes, Imogen diverted hers downward, while shaking her emotionally heavy head from side to side.

"So you had sex with me knowing that you weren't in love with me anymore…? Knowing that you still wanted me to go back to New York…? Wow…" Knots twisted inside the older girl's stomach as she watched her girlfriend remain unresponsively silent. The large bed suddenly felt disgusting. Letting out a scoff, Fiona pushed herself up from the mattress and retrieved her scattered clothes from the floor. Upon finishing getting dressed, her determined finger flicked up on the room's light switch, better illuminating the girl that had just stomped all over her heart. "Never in my life has someone made me feel as cheap and disposable as you just did. You basically just gave me the same respect as a one night stand."

Imogen lifted her stare to the devastated socialite. After standing up, she hesitated and then took a few small steps in the other girl's direction. "I'm sorry…" Her voice was sorrowful. "I was trying to fix us—well…fix me."

"You should have tried talking to me! I've been waiting and waiting for the moment that you would finally just open up to me about everything, and let me help you…but you've been shutting me out since the very second you heard about your dad's accident." Hearing her own words, Fiona took a few measured breaths and managed to calm herself down. "I don't understand what I did to make you resent me so much…"

Running through her own jumbled thoughts, the tan girl wondered the same thing. How had her feelings towards the girl changed so drastically in such a short period of time? What had happened? Finally, she was able to pinpoint the reason for her concealed grudge. "I shaped my whole life around you…" the girl stated upon realization. "I put you above everything else…everyone else; I agreed to everything you decided was best for us—you decided we couldn't get married until after I graduate; you decided on this house, even though I really would have preferred the one with the bigger yard; you decided which days I would go and visit you in New York. I mean jeez, Fiona, you even decided that I needed to go out with classmates on Friday, when all I really wanted to do was just stay home with you. But I obeyed, because I loved you…and because I would have done anything you wanted…" her soft voice trailed. The socialite stood wordlessly with each sentence resonating in her mind. Pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Imogen's stare fell to the floor with a deep exhale. "And now I'm left with this entire life of your decisions…and with a dead dad that will never even get to see my wedding, or my kids, or anything else that holds any meaning at all. He was sick and alone and I should have put him first."

"Your dad knew how much you loved him, Im," the older girl whispered with newfound compassion.

"Fiona, eighty percent of the time he didn't even know my name, let alone how much I loved him." Her tone was growing harsher. "And do you want to know what the last lucid conversation I had with him was?" Not waiting for a response from her girlfriend, she continued. "I was at the airport two months ago, waiting for my flight to New York, and he called me just to check in. I told him that I couldn't talk because my flight was starting to load and that I would call him back whenever I landed—I didn't call him back. I forgot, of course, because I was with you."

Fiona suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt and sadness. Walking back towards the bed, she lowered herself to sit on the edge, as she continued digesting all of her fiancée's lingering words. "Every single decision that I ever made, I made for you. Doing what I thought you wanted or what was best for you in the long run. All I have ever cared about is your happiness, Im. It's still the only thing I care about." Fixating her heavy blue eyes to her pale hands, she fiddled with the ring that was still on her finger. "I liked the other house more too," she breathed. "But you wouldn't tell me which one you preferred, so I chose this one because it had arched ceilings… and I know how much you love arched ceilings."

Listening to the socialite's oration, Imogen tightened the strings on her robe. She slowly pulled out the small chair from the vanity, allowing herself to fall into the seat. It was comforting to let the chair take some of the burden from her tired body.

"I told you which days to come to New York based on when things were going to be happening that I thought you would enjoy—the photography expos, the indie-pop concerts, the movies you wanted to see… I just wanted your trips there to be as full as possible." Looking at her stationary fiancée, the older girl yearned for a time when their biggest fights were about missed phone-dates. Imogen was right—things were different now. "Not that it even really matters, but I might as well finish explaining myself…" Imogen's head lifted to look at her. "Friday, when your friend was texting you about going out, I saw your face perk up when you read his message. It started eating at me, this feeling that I was holding you back from other things—things that I can't be a part of. I didn't want you to miss out just because I'm such a screwed up disaster."

Imogen's heart was hit with a small pang as she heard the other girl speak so poorly of herself. "You're not a disaster…and I never felt like I was missing out on anything…" The eccentric girl released a sigh, gently shaking her head. "I felt that anything that couldn't involve you was not even worth my time."

"It's me that wasn't worth your time, Imogen. I mean look at yourself," she raised her hand towards the other girl, "you're miserable."

"Fiona-"

"We had only been back together for like six months when you asked me…and it was right after that night with your dad. I was worried that you were making a rash emotional decision that you hadn't had time to fully think through…I didn't want you deciding to spend your entire life with someone based off of one horrible night. So I figured if I gave you a long enough engagement, you'd have plenty of time to be absolutely sure that I was the one you wanted forever—I didn't want you to regret me," her voice trailed off. "We both shaped our lives around each other, because that's what people who love each other do. That's how we fit so perfectly…or did, at least," she shook her head. "Now I'm just this horrible person that robbed you of valuable moments with you could have had with your dad…" her manicured fingers wiped away the moisture from underneath her eye. "I'm so sorry," she breathed.

Imogen watched as the other girl rose from the bed and walked towards the closet, retrieving a large suitcase. She placed it on the bed and then proceeded to fill it with her elegant clothes. Before changing out of her pajamas and into one of her regular outfits, she walked into the bathroom and returned with her packed toiletries. "Where are you going?" the young girl's delicate voice asked.

Zipping the bag closed, the curly brunette turned to face Imogen. "A hotel for now, until I can find out when the next flight to New York is." She moved towards her fiancée and knelt down in front of the chair, clasping the girl's small tan hands in her own. "I should have listened to you the first time. You really are better off without me—I mess everything up. Please…just know how sorry I am." Releasing her grasp, she stood up and paced to the bedroom's exit carrying her incredibly heavy baggage.

"Wait-" The quirky girl reflexively rose from her chair and embraced the socialite in a tight hug, sending the girl's suitcase falling to the wooden floor. "I'm sorry too," she whispered through the dark curls.

Letting go of Imogen, Fiona face formed into a half-grin, as she loitered for just a few more seconds in those deep brown eyes. "Don't be. You were perfect." She then picked her suitcase back up and redirected her path to the stairs.

Watching the older girl walk out of her life, Imogen was overwhelmed with the finality of the situation. She turned her gaze to the section of the closet that was now empty, with fallen hangers scattered upon the floor. Looking next at the bed, her eyes lingered upon the sheets that were currently jumbled from the other girl's presence—a presence that was now gone from a bed that was now way too big. Slowly, she crawled on top of the mattress and curled up onto Fiona's former side of the bed. With her face buried in the pillow, Chanel No. 5 filled her nostrils…and just like that, her heart began to beat again. Lying in that now-empty spot, she cried herself into a deep sleep.

…

As the cab pulled to the front of the house, Fiona stood up from the stoop. Her heels glided down the driveway, never missing a step as she reached the back of the car and put her large bag inside of the trunk.

"Where ya going?" The driver's deep voice asked as she entered the backseat.

"The Hilton DoubleTree," she answered. The car began to accelerate. "Actually, can you make a stop on the way? There's this little store on the corner of 22nd and Maple."

The man nodded, keeping his focus forward. "One of those kind of nights, huh?"

"Yeah. One of those kind of nights…" Fiona leaned her exhausted head against the window as her cold blue eyes stared at the dark winding road that lay in front of her.