Chapter 7: No light, no light
Layla knew she wasn't taking good care of herself. Oh, it was nothing dramatic. She wasn't wasting away. On the contrary, she was gaining weight. It had been easy to eat healthy and exercise when she'd been happy. At the moment, though, she was not in the mood for vegetables or yoga. She wanted to sit on the couch and eat pizza while watching The Real Housewives of Something. She wanted to numb herself.
But no more! She was going to be active. First order of business: finding Warren. She gathered a notebooks and a pen and jotted down names and numbers. Then she grabbed her phone and started calling. After an exhaustive round of calls to Warren's friends – short list – and hotels, Layla still didn't know where her husband was.
No matter! Next order of business: eating at least one nutritious meal. This brought her to the Paper Lantern, since she figured she might as well go out too. Sitting coped up at home with her life on hold until Warren got his head out of his ass wasn't exactly fun.
And she wasn't even going to drive there. She'd walk. Bam! Fresh air and some much needed physical exercise all at once. Outside, though it was cold – bitingly so - Layla took a deep breath. She was beginning to feel a little more like herself now.
It was great to be out of the house. She soaked up the sun, enjoying the little bit of warmth and light it provided. When she had almost reached her destination and was crossing the street to get to the Paper Lantern, the light was suddenly in her eyes. Blinded by the sun, she raised a hand and peeked at the gleaming surface that was causing the trouble. It was one of the windows of the apartment above the restaurant. The sun was reflected in it. Layla walked on until the glass was no longer a white, glinting sheet.
There was someone in the upstairs apartment, moving about. That was strange. The owner of the restaurant - who was also the chef - had never been able to rent the apartment to anyone. Even with the economy circling the drain, the apartment had remained empty for some reason. Until now, apparently.
Squinting, Layla stared at the window, waiting for the inhabitant to appear again. All she could see for a moment was shoulder length black hair. A woman then, Layla decided. Then the woman turned around and it was a man. It was Warren.
The leafless tree next to Layla quivered. She looked at it in wonder. The tree trunk was vibrating violently as if it was about to explode. She placed her hand against the bark, realising as she did that her hand was shaking too. The feeling in her chest threatened to engulf her. She tried desperately to let it go. She tried to unclench. Slowly, the tree stilled. She was nowhere near relaxed, but she had managed to get the feeling under control. Breathing evenly, Layla patted the tree.
So, Warren was here. She had no idea what it meant that he was staying in the apartment above her favourite restaurant, but that wasn't important right now. He was here. She could see him. Talk to him. Trembling slightly, Layla entered the Paper Lantern. She needed time to calm down, so she opted to eat first to give herself the time to do so. She selected a seat and waited for someone to come take her order. A man approached her and after she'd told him what she'd like to eat, she inquired about the new tenant.
'Is someone renting the upstairs apartment?'
Her voice stayed level while her heart thumped wildly. The man nodded and conspiratorially leaned closer.
'Marriage trouble, I think. And he'd just gotten married.'
Layla gave the man a tight, awkward smile and breathed a sigh of relief when he retired to the kitchen. She fiddled with the napkin on the table. Instead of calming down, she was only growing more agitated. Just the idea of Warren being so close was undoing her. Maybe she should follow Magenta's advice after all. Nothing good could come from seeing Warren now. She was too upset. Too angry. On the other hand, she'd already spent Christmas and New Year's Eve and all the days in between and after without Warren.
Ultimately, Layla decided to go rogue. She ate her meal in a hurry, barely chewing, tasting nothing. She threw some money on the table and exited the restaurant. There was a rickety metal staircase attached to the side of the building. She ran up it. The stairs creaked under her weight. There was no doorbell or knocker, so she knocked. Thank God that there isn't a lot of nature around, she thought. The way she was feeling now she was capable of uprooting entire forests.
When Warren opened the door, he looked so normal before he recognized her. It pissed her off.
'Hi, it's your wife!' she chirped, waltzing past him into the apartment before he could recover from the shock. It was immediately evident why no one had wanted to rent the apartment. The neglected state of the place was extraordinary. It was small, squalid and the strong smell of Chinese food hung in the air. A few half dead plants drooped depressingly in a dark corner. She turned to see that Warren had left the door open. They glared at each other.
'I want you to leave,' he said, averting his eyes when she continued to stare at him. This man she loved – yes, loved, still – couldn't even bear to look at her.
'Please leave,' he urged. His whole body was rigid with tension. His fists were throwing off sparks that luckily turned to ashes before alighting on the filthy carpet.
'Leave!' he shouted. Layla swallowed and shook her head. His anger didn't scare her. She would take his fury over his chilly indifference any day of the week. The panic in his eyes was awful, though. Clearly, the thought of having to endure another second in her company was too much.
'Then I'll leave,' he muttered. She did it without thinking, but she did it. Vines threaded around Warren's wrists, keeping him in place. Surprised, his head snapped up and their gazes locked.
'Don't do this, Layla.'
'I don't know what else to do,' she whispered. That caused him to stop straining against her hold. Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence got so big, so heavy that she had to say something. Of course, she settled on the wrong thing.
'He was so drunk. He thought...'
With a growl, Warren's hands ignited. The vines shrunk away from the fire.
'I'm no one's second choice,' he bit at her. Layla sighed, allowing the plants to shrivel back to their natural size and return to their dismal existence.
'I feel like we're not even having the same conversation,' she muttered, frustrated. 'Tell me what I can do to convince you that you're the only one for me. What can I do to make you believe me?'
'Go. You should go.'
Maybe he does need more time after all, Layla thought. Maybe it was like that quote. If you love someone, set them free. If they come back; they're yours. If they don't; they never were. Unfortunately, patience was not her virtue. But she could try again. She was about to listen and leave when Warren closed the door.
They faced each other. She looked at him expectantly. He kept standing there with his back to the door; his muscles taut. He remained on edge, but something had changed. He was looking at her now. It didn't take long before the full force of his hunger struck her. A shiver of want crawled up her spine.
He bridged the distance between them in one step and kissed her. It felt so good. She had gone so long without his mouth on hers, without his tongue parting her lips, without his hands on her body. It felt wonderful to be wanted by him. And at the same time, it was almost impersonal.
He eased her onto a mattress. It was dirty, like everything else in the apartment. There was no tenderness. It was rather vicious. It was all wrong. But still… Still, still, still! Maybe this was the opening she had been hoping for. Maybe this was the way to get to Warren.
When it was done, nothing was different. She had done nothing wrong and Warren refused to believe that.
'I don't trust Will,' he said, while they dressed. Exasperated, Layla turned on him.
'No, you don't trust me. Will would never do anything that I don't want. So, it's me you don't trust.'