CHAPTER 30
IN TOO DEEP
When the time comes to leave and check out of the Heathman, I feel like I am in a perpetual state of gloom. I'm not sure why though. Hadn't I asked for this? For some space and distance to ease my guilt over betraying my best friend? And he had been so understanding about it. Too understanding, possibly. But I know that's just typical of Christian. He's too much of a good, kind person.
Too good, too kind. Too loving, too patient. It almost makes this even harder. Maybe it would have been easier for me to have found my resolve if he'd been truly mad and resistant against it?
"You've got all your things then?" Christian asks, bringing me out of my reverie as we stand there, on opposite sides of the elevator.
There's a short space of distance between us, more than usual... but maybe that's a good, deliberate thing? Maybe it makes it easier, it makes it hurt less... the more distance and wide berth between us? If anything, I can only be thankful.
I don't even need to lift my head to be able to see him out of the corner of my eye. He stands there, clutching his overnight bag to his shoulder. I can tell he's looking at my face simply by the feeling he gives me.
I try to speak up, though it's hard. There seems to be something wedged deep in my throat, something itchy and painful. "Yeah, I think so. You?"
"Yeah."
Usually conversation between us isn't so hard to find. Most of the time it's free-flowing and comfortable. But maybe it's the impending separation between us that is responsible for it? It hangs, heavy, sad, palpable in the air between us.
Once the elevator dings on the foyer floor, it all becomes so real, and it's then I feel it. My eyes blur, my cheeks tickle. Why do I have to be crying now? Why couldn't I have held it in until we were away from each other, at the very least? I was trying to be so strong. I have no right to cry, after all. This is my decision, I am the one to blame for it, not Christian. I initiated this separation, this distance to sort out my friendship with his daughter. Not him. He is blameless in this, the fault all lies with me.
Hoping he doesn't see, hastily I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe around my face. I know I've failed miserably in him not seeing my emotional outburst, because I hear him mutter my name softly, consolingly. But I can't bare to look at him, I can't stand for him to dare comfort me after this all being my own doing. I can't handle it right now. It's all too much.
"I guess we'll be in contact soon then," I mutter, through more tears that spill down my cheeks at the inevitable separation. I need to get away. Before it gets worse. Isn't this all my doing? So why cry about it?
"Of course. You know you can reach me whenever you need, whatever time of the day, honey." Honey. God. Why say it now?
Why honey? Why can't he just call me something more deserving than that name? Something like... just Ana or heartless cow or something at the very least? Why does he have to be so compassionate, so understanding? Why can't he just be pissed off with me for once, and raging?
He extends his arm out to me and I know he's about to hug me. I could really use one last hug for now but I feel like it'll be my undoing.
"Please, Christian." I sound just as miserable as I feel as I stare down at the floor imploringly. "I don't think a hug is a good idea right now. It'll just make it worse."
I don't even need to peek up at him to know my words and refusal for comfort have wounded him. Although it hurts, I press myself forward, shoving one foot out of the elevator into the foyer, then the left. Left foot, right, left, right. I can tell he's hot on my heels.
"Would you prefer I drop you off at the campus?" His concerned, quiet voice makes me stop dead in my tracks. "Are you sure you're going to be OK right now?"
It feels like it'll be the death of me, but I force myself to do it. Steeling myself, I straighten my back up and force myself to look at him. He staring at me intently, all his usual compassionate, concerned self. His gray eyes are blaring with worry. My heart clenches painfully.
"I wish you could drop me off, but.. it's probably better that we don't risk it right now," I breathe, my voice achingly sad. More traitor tears trickle down my cheeks. "Thank you for the offer though. I just think it's easier if we... cut the cord now before it becomes even more painful."
I know I should move, I should leave out of the Heathman and yet I'm paralyzed, my legs seem to have lost all feeling in them. All I can seem to do is stare at him hollowly. I let my wet eyes take him all in greedily. The thought of not getting the chance to look at him one more time at the very least chokes me. Who knows how long it will be before I can feast my eyes onto him again?
Christian glances around us with a heavy sigh at all the people walking around in the foyer, minding their own business. Then because I can't possibly resist and he's stronger than me, of course he is, I can do nothing else but surrender when he drops his overnight bag on the floor and steps closer, shutting off the distance between us again.
"Come here," he breathes. He holds out both muscular arms towards me, and before I know it, he's pulling me tightly into his chest, my face against his jacket. I am powerless to stop it. Or maybe my limbs and my heart don't want me to? "Just give us this one last time," he pleads in a barely audible whisper.
I bury my nose into his shirt, unconsciously inhaling in deeply his masculine, musky Christian smell for the last time in a while. His arms tighten around me soothingly as he ducks his head and buries his warm stubbly chin into the crook of my neck. Heaven. This feels like heaven, right where I belong. Comforted, warm, in his arms. I mustn't forget this feeling either. I have a feeling it will give me strength to carry on until we see each other again... whenever that may be.
"Just please don't hate me," I hear myself uncontrollably begging into his jacket.
"Ana, we already talked about this. Remember?" He's breathing into my skin. For the first time I actually can detect a trace of irritation there. He exhales loudly. "Do whatever you need to do. I'll be there when you're ready, OK?"
His reassurance cheers me slightly, but not enough to quite ease the pain. "OK."
I realize we can't stand here, hugging all day. Tentatively I pull myself away, although it feels like it's the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life. I force a sheepish smile, swiveling around to leave.
Then I feel it. The audacity he has takes my breath away, but I know why he's doing it. To break the sadness, to make some lightness of the situation somehow.
He smacks me on my backside. Not hard, just a playful little pat. In front of all these people in the foyer.
I can't resist shooting a glance back at him over my shoulder. The look in his eyes- the gleam of mischievousness there, mixed with a slight sadness- it sends giggling out loud uncontrollably. He sure knows how to make me feel better, that's for sure.
"Sorry," he mutters, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. I can tell he's trying to hide a grin by the way the corners of his mouth twitches. "I just couldn't resist. One last spank for the journey, eh?"
Surprising myself, I manage to keep up and go along with him despite how miserable I feel. I pretend to look both shocked and disgusted. "Wow, you dare to spank me in public, you dirty old man?"
I know what would happen if we were alone, just the two of us, in a hotel room. This would end up with him spanking me even more, chasing me even. And me enjoying the thrill of it all while egging him on. But we're not alone, all by ourselves, in a hotel room, safely concealed behind fall walls. No, we're in the Heathman foyer, in public, strangers walking around us to book in their rooms or hand their keys in to check out. They'd think it suss.
The chuckle he gives me in response sends tingles all over.
"Touché." He runs a hand slowly through his hair, a deep sigh escaping his parted lips. He seems torn, like he can't decide whether to just carry on in front of all these strangers anyway and spank me some more for calling him a dirty old man. But then as a slow etching of various emotions pass over his face as he stares back at me, I can see he's resigned on keeping things modest. "I'll talk to you soon," he says, his words like a firm promise.
"I would hope so. Bye, Christian."
Before I lose courage altogether, I turn, exiting the rotating glass doors of the Heathman. It takes all my might not to look back in through the window, to stare at him before we part our ways for good for a while. But looking at him will only make the pain of our separation sting anew, so I force myself to carry on despite my splintering, shattering heart at the absence I have put between us.
But this is necessary, I try to tell myself consolingly as I make the journey back to campus. I need to set things right with Kate. If I'm not actively lying all the time about where I'm going of a weekend... then it's a start to take the pressure off the immense guilt I feel at times for going behind her back.
This is only temporary, I remind myself, but even despite it the tears spring afresh. His words come back to me...
"I want you to know that I'll be waiting to spend the rest of my life with you, even if that means, as you say, not seeing each other for awhile so that things get better between Katherine and you..."
His words should reassure me, and they do. They spark a fire of hope within my heart that, despite this temporary break and separation, there will be better things to come for us one day.
"I'd love to start the next stages of our life together..."
He wants a future with me. Despite what happens with his daughter and how this affects their relationship once it all comes to head and is revealed, he wants a future with me. And a future, I want it with him too. I want it all.
"I want to be with you for the rest of my life."
I need to remember this, hard and heartbreaking as it is. This is going to be so hard, and even as I stroll down the street hastily, I already feel his absence and miss him immensely. The thought of no longer having our weekends together in the Heathman - or just together, in general- its devastating. I'm not sure I will even be able to last. I wouldn't be surprised if I crumble and cave, ringing him at the end of the week, begging to see him again.
But I need to try to patch things up with Kate first, as best as I humanly can. For my own sense of morality, at the very least.
I'm panting by the time I reach the campus apartment. I let myself in with my key, immediately greeted to a silent house. The TV isn't on, and there's no Kate sitting as usual on the couch, in her pajamas, for her beloved version of lazy Sunday. I wasn't expecting her not to be home.
I drop my bag into my room before heading down the hallway to hers. Her door is wide open but I still knock anyway, just to be polite. To my surprise, Kate isn't even in her bedroom.
She's not at the apartment at all, which goes against her usual tradition of lazy Sunday.
Where could she be? Or is it because of me, what's encouraged her to break out of her usual Sunday creature comfort? I can't help the feeling that it probably is due to me. Can I blame her though? How can it not be my fault that she's evidently avoiding me after our horrible argument?
The silence in our shared dorm is unexpected and achingly lonely.
I head back into my room, shutting the door behind me. And then, just like that, it's as if the whole weight of everything crashes down onto me despairingly, throwing me into a deep dark pit.
The deafening silence, it feels accusatory.
I move over to my wall mirror as I put my hair up into a ponytail. The person that looks back at me, I hardly recognize her. She isn't her bright-eyed, happy self; not like how she'd look after a day spent with Christian. No, she looks empty, pale with swollen red eyes. A ghost, an empty shell. Who am I? Who have I become but this person that hurts others feelings? Who is this treacherous, lying me?
The tears come as the harrowing silence in the dorm apartment continues to haunt me. I want so badly to make amends with Kate and have our old friendship back again, but... how?
I'm not willing to give up her father. I love him, he makes me happy. We have a future together, he loves me, I make him happy.
Before I know it, I'm sobbing. I cup my hands over my mouth, desperately trying to stifle the cries down in case Kate does so happen to enter right at that moment.
The ghost sobs back at me, ugly and glum. Even the ghost doesn't recognize me, I don't think.
…
"Ana?" Someone's calling out to me, a woman's voice. She sounds familiar somehow. I know her, I know that voice yet... somehow my brain won't connect the dots. "Ana?" Her voice seems to get louder and louder, mingling in with the wave of despair I'm riding on in my dreams. "It's only four in the afternoon. What are you doing in bed so early?"
The woman's hand shakes my shoulder roughly. Then my other shoulder. I can't pretend to be sucked in some dreamy void then.
No, I've just got to wake up and face the awful reality.
Reluctantly, my eyes pop open. Moisture builds. A figure stands over me, full of concern in her eyes, shiny blonde hair framing her face as she peers down at me.
Kate. She's home now. Back from wherever she's been to.
Groggily, I force myself to sit up a little, peering around me. Oops, I've cried myself to sleep. On top of my bed. Sheets strewn all around me, clothes and shoes still on and all.
"Are you OK?" She sounds worried yet there's an unmissable tinge of frustration in her voice as well. "Why've you been crying for? What's going on?"
I'm surprised she's even talking to me after our latest argument, where she found out I had lied about spending the weekends at my Mother's. She's still a little aloof and weird with me by the way she's standing away from me by a considerable distance, I can tell, but... she's truly worried despite all that.
"I'm sorry, Kate," is all I can manage quietly as I rub my hands over my face, trying to make myself become more alert.
"Sorry? About what?"
I scramble to get myself together frantically. "You know, about last week, about our argument," I murmur ruefully. I drop my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers together tightly as I force myself to peer up at her. She has her hands on her hips, the concern still there. "And about lying to you."
"So why did-" Her voice is shrill and admonitory instinctively, but then with restraint, she pauses suddenly from her comment to inhale in deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. When she speaks down at me again, her voice is fortunately less harsh and more gentle this time around. "Why did you even lie to begin with? Why tell me you were staying at your Mom's during the weekend when you weren't?" She bites down on her lip while shaking her hands at her sides frantically. "I just don't get it, Ana?"
"I don't know, Kate. I guess I'm just... going through some stuff right now." I stare up at her miserably. I haven't worked out my line of defense yet, but... for now, apologizing is really all that I can manage. "I'm sorry. And, despite what you think... I am still the old Ana that you knew. Things are just... changing, that's all."
I tuck my knees up into my chest, creating space, inviting her to sit with me.
After a moment of obvious hesitation, Kate gives in. She lays down next to me, propping her shoulders and head up against the headboard. I can see her eyes literally flashing through every possible emotion one can feel, but... what can I do? What can I possibly say right now?
"You just freak me out lately," she breathes after a moment earnestly, focusing her eyes onto mine.
"Freak you out? How?"
"I don't know how to explain it, Ana..." She tosses her hands up into the air in frustration. "But you just... do."
"I freak myself out too sometimes," I admit weakly. "So you aren't the only one feeling it, Kate." I reach out tentatively before biting the bullet and touching the back of her hand with mine helplessly. To my relief, she doesn't swat me away cruelly. She surrenders. "I hope you know that you are still my number one best friend. I do love you."
"Oh, Ana." Surprising me, her face softens into almost tears as she turns her hand around, clutching onto mine. "I guess I'm sorry too then. I just wish you'd tell me why you've lied to me."
"I know. I just... can't at the moment, OK?" I force a smile back at her, while trying to keep my emotions in check. I can feel myself about ready to begin crying again myself.
"Just tell me what's going on for you? You scare the shit out of me half the time, you know that?"
We both laugh shakily, emotionally, at her blunt statement.
"I know I probably do," I mutter remorsefully. "And I'm so sorry for putting you through that, Kate."
"Is someone hurting you?" Her eyes lighten up with immediate suspicion, her shoulders tensing with anger at the thought. "I came in here and you looked so sad in your sleep? If someone's hurting you, just let me know and I'll help you deal with it, OK?"
I suppose I can see why she would assume someone has been hurting me. I am hurting, but not in the way she suspects. No, I've done this all to myself. This is all my doing. Maybe I'm a martyr?
"Hell, even dad..." The way she throws her father into the equation, so effortlessly, it makes my heart sink. "Even dad will stand behind you, you know that. Tell me who is hurting you so he can brawl them like he did in his young man days, yeah?"
I know she half means it to be funny, but it pierces me a little as well. It's a raw subject. Oh, Kate. If only you knew...
"Kate, no one's hurting me," I speak up with a loud swallow. "Well, not in the way you think anyway. Offering to get your dad involved as a brawler to beat the crap out of them, well... it's touching, really, but I don't think it's necessary."
"Then what can I do?" She shakes her head helplessly. "How can I help?"
The way she stares at me, waiting desperately, her eyes wide, waiting... it breaks my heart. It makes me somehow feel even worse than I already do. Although we've been arguing a lot lately, Kate does mean well. And half the things we argue about are admittedly, my fault. All the lies. All the going behind her back. I deserve everything she's given me.
"Kate, you can't help at all, other than to please... just give me some time." I squeeze her hand firmly. "Trust me though, that... when the time is right, I'll let you know the truth. OK?"
She stares me down unblinkingly. She doesn't seem quite satisfied, and she's always had this piercing way of looking at you that feels unnerving, like she's willing to immediately put you under interrogation.
But then after what seems like hours, Kate relents, squeezing my hand while her shoulders sag in defeat. "Fine, whatever you say. But I'll always be waiting, remember that." My mouth dries at the little threat, but I know she's one to be taken seriously when it comes to these things. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got return a phone call from dad."
The casual mention of her father pricks my ears up.
"Your dad?" I hope I don't sound obviously different in tone, but I have no control over it either way. Nor do I have control over my spluttering heart. "What's up with him?"
God, I hope he's ok, for... whatever reason.
"I don't know." She shrugs thoughtfully, giving my hand one last squeeze while sending me a who-knows-what's-wrong-with-him-now sort of look, her brows raised. "He left me a message like, 20 minutes ago and he sounded really weird. Like, there was loud noises in the background so he's obviously somewhere busy."
My mind scatters at what she's saying. He tried to call her only 20 minutes ago? And where he was on the other line sounded busy?
"He sounded really weird? In what sort of way though?" Please be OK, please be OK.
"Like... slurry weird." Slurry. As in drinking slurry? "Yeah, as you know, totally not like him," she adds at whatever expression she must see on my face, "so I better check in and see what the hell he's doing right now. I wonder if he's upset over Mom getting remarried."
Could he be upset over her Mother getting remarried to her partner? It's possible, but in the back of my mind, I think I know better. He told me he was happy that she'd moved on with her life, because he's moved on as well... with me. Not that I can tell Kate that, of course.
"Hmm, maybe," I mutter for the sake of it, although my suspicions tell me otherwise.
Is he getting drunk because of us going on a break? Have I hurt him more than I'd realized, more than he'd actually let on that I had? The idea that I have, that I've even spurred him on enough to go out there and drink himself drunk in grief... It makes me ill.
"I'm just gonna go return his call and check in, OK?"
"Sure." As Kate plops off my bed and exits the room, I can't help feeling like I'm drowning in quicksand. The more I lie, the more I do things to try to make things better... I just seem to keep hurting those around me. And now, apparently, I've hurt Christian too.
SORRY I'VE TAKEN SO LONG TO REPOST CHAPTERS. AS WE ALL KNOW, LIFE HAS BEEN HECTIC AND UNCERTAIN WITH COVID, ETC. I'VE HAD A BABY AND SHE TAKES UP A LOT OF MY TIME BUT I WILL GET BACK INTO POSTING. HOPING YOU ALL ARE SAFE AND WELL IN TODAY'S CRAZY, SCARY WORLD.
ALSO, I DO NOT CONDONE PEDOPHILIA JUST SO WE ARE ALL CLEAR. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE CONTENT OF THIS STORY, FAIR ENOUGH. IF IT'S NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA THAT'S FINE AND I UNDERSTAND. :) I AM IN AN AGE GAP RELATIONSHIP MYSELF (NOT QUITE TO THE EXTREME OF THIS STORY), BUT I DO NOT MEAN ANYTHING MALICIOUS IN WRITING THIS. PLEASE ALL KEEP SAFE AND HEALTHY. SEE YOU ALL NEXT UPDATE (THOSE WHO DO WISH TO STICK AROUND) XX