I woke up to the noise of myself snoring with a partially opened mouth. For a few seconds I was living a reality where I was in the empty bedroom of my flat, but soon a violent flash of last night's memories came over me and I suddenly grew conscious of probable Darcy's presence. I opened my eyes and closed my mouth in a coordinated motion and swallowed some spit as the closing act of the theatrical snoring that I was performing unconsciously. I turned my head around to find the other side of the off-white bed empty and crumpled. The bedroom flooded with sunlight blurred into clarity as I tried to prop myself up. The first attempt was brutally thwarted by a rush of sharp headache that fell on my head like a disjointed bundle of needles falling perpendicular to my skull. I winced and fell back on the pillow softly while holding my head. I opened my eyes to absorb more of the room.
It looked slightly bigger than it seemed last night. The first object of my attention that initiated me into the hard cold reality of the morning was last night's dinner that lay in tatters and parts: a plate with half eaten smoked salmon and another plate with trace of fully-eaten something; I couldn't remember whether I quit the salmon or finished a plateful of something. What I did recognize was the bottle of wine that lay in a bucketful of what was ice last night. The bottle was now bobbing lightly up and down in water, with its neck resting on the rim of the ice-bucket that was failing to live up to its name. One empty wine glass stood stoically on the side table by my side of the bed.
With my eyes and some parts of my brain now somewhat acquainted with the harshness, I slowly got up; first by propping myself up by my elbows and then finally deciding to subject myself to the cruelty of yanking the duvet away from my naked and a little sore body. I sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, anticipating an attack of vomit that I lightly sensed in my stomach. But it turned out to be a false alarm.
The sight of the wine bottle in a bucket of water got to my nerves. I got up and moved towards the coffee table where the crime scene of some unimaginable dinner was on display. I pulled on the bottle with a disproportionate force expecting it to be at least half full but it turned out to be almost empty. The force therefore manifested as a yanking motion and splashed a bit of water on the rug. This discrepancy between my expectation and the reality baffled my already hazy mind as I stood there holding the bottle and staring at its label. How much did we drink last night?
"Frank?" I said softly, still a bit slurry-voiced, as I walked out of the bedroom. I passed through the tiny kitchen this suite, the one which is used by elusive billionaires like Darcy to get all their meals assembled there by poker faced people to avoid any possible contact with other plebian guests of the hotel. The tiny room was more littered than the bedroom coffee table with piled cutlery. I couldn't find him in the living room.
I turned back to go in the bedroom. I finally spotted the other wine glass that was sitting near the TV, still full with the deep red liquid, looking suspiciously not-consumed since it was poured. Another question haunted me with a certain irrationality that is the bane of a person who hates oneself with a peculiar commitment: How much did I drink last night? I peeped into the bathroom to find it empty too. The self-hating monster smiled an evil grin.
I pulled the duvet to wrap myself as I started feeling a lot more naked, a lot more vulnerable.
I sat huddled in the duvet on the bed staring at the floor with a dreaded sense of despair. The penthouse was painfully devoid of the looming figure of dreadful Frank Darcy. I stared at the carcass of last night's dinner and started feeling like an inseparable part of these empty plates and rumpled napkins and wine glasses. I felt a hot urge to very sincerely slap myself across my heavy-lidded eyes. There was a bubble of self-hatred that was slowly travelling its way up my throat, starting all the way from my chest.
My phone buzzed raptly on the other side table. I frantically crawled to the other side of the bed with some bizarre unfounded hope only to find a call from mom.
"morning mum" I said as soon as I picked up.
"It's almost evening here, Lizzie" she said.
"Good Afternoon then" I said resting my back by the bed rest as I tried to discern the time in Milan.
"What were you doing?"
"Just got up" I said with another wave of headache swelling by the second. "Why, what do you need?"
"Oh..um… Nothing really" she said hesitatingly, "I just wanted to know how you are."
"I'm… fine… I suppose" I murmured, feeling anything but fine. But listening that in the voice of mom was unexpectedly refreshing.
"Well, that's good" she said chirpily.
She went on rambling about her new neighbors in Milan for a while interspersing her monologue with "thanks dear" and "sure" said presumably to Michele who was in different stages of helping her with her tea and snacks.
"… and I talked to John Bingley yesterday about it too and he thought it was a fabulous idea" she ended with a very audible crunch of a cookie travelling across the Atlantic heard by a very heavy-headed, very hungover woman cursing her existence into the Pacific winds.
"Yes I'm sure it is" I said gazing mindlessly out of the window to the tops of other skyscrapers that accompanied the four seasons. I'm sure whatever it was, it was a good idea.
"Isn't he an absolute darling, Lizzie? Being such nice friends not only with Jane but also with our family, despite everything that went down. It is such a civil thing to do." she said with a sigh.
"Yeah obviously" I said phasing my attention back to Milan, "he is a great guy to not be bitter about anything."
"Yeah, it reminds me" she said, "he said that Darcy would be in LA for the weekend. Did you meet him?"
Something made me shift my gaze from the window to the full glass of wine sitting by the TV in a seamless, dreamlike motion. My fixation on that glass in that split second grew thousand times; it's treachery, it's mocking. The blood red liquid that glowed in that morning light look like it was afflicted with some sinister malevolent intent.
Before I could even think about answering that question in any way, a tsunami of tears hit my eyes, coming out of nowhere. My heart was caught off guard and I strained my throat to ensure that the first sob was as noiseless as possible. But tsunami was impossible to control as two very thick hot streams of tears rolled down both my cheeks.
"No, I didn't" I lied as I prepared to embrace the second sob.
"Oh, I thought John said he wanted to meet you" she replied, thankfully not noticing my weakened trembling voice.
"I was really busy with work" I said disguising my sobs in deep breaths of sighs, "I had many deadlines."
"Okay" she replied.
"Mum I'll call you later I need some breakfast okay?" I blurted out rather desperately as my attempts to control my tears were failing miserable.
"Okay, dear. Anytime." She said, "Good bye"
I felt like I was crying from all the orifices of my face: eyes, nose, mouth. I let out a violent helpless scream of unbound agony as I held my stomach with both my hands and leaned forward, as if forcing some horrid stuff that has blocked my lungs. I wanted to force the life out of my body. When I closed my eyes I felt breathless from the claustrophobia of the memory of Darcy cornering me in that elevator. My horrible sobs made me breathless to the point of my whole body feeling strained. I stood up and walked around the bedroom hoping that it might make me feel even one percent better. But the sight of the room filled me with such a strong sense of rage and shame at the same time that I just couldn't stop my wailing.
That damned wine bottle! I thought to myself as I picked it up and flung it violently across the room; I had this wild hope of uprooting my very arm in rage when I threw it. I hit the floor near the door and shattered into pieces, spilling whatever wine that was left in it in a disappointingly small puddle. I collapsed there on the floor and clawed at my face with my irregular fingernails.
This pain, this very real pain. This is why I keep coming back to him. This wild sensation of my heart beating in my chest, my lungs still struggling to get air in them. This is what Frank Darcy means to me. Is this how love supposed to be? After the tempest of crying and wailing prevailed, I felt spent. More spent then I felt after coming 5 times last night. I laid there on the floor by the bed lifeless with my body partially wrapped in the duvet, resembling those togas actors in Shakespearean plays wears, well, a distorted version of it. I hated myself for letting Frank to do this to me. I felt so fucking stupid, like I gave in to something. I felt so weak, so unimportant. Like the world around me was going on its own pace while everyone walked over me. The rug on which I lay felt like an extension of me, I wondered if the rug ever feels the way I was right now. There was something inside me that was dying very painfully, struggling stupidly to stay alive. I genuinely wanted to hurt myself really, really badly.
I spotted my clothes spread all over the large armchair. It seemed like I was talking to Frank in James' office sometime in the previous century, or in another life I lived on a parallel universe. This penthouse seemed like a grotesque parody of a hotel, a torture chamber fashioned in this way to make sure that I claw, starve or dehydrate myself to death. I had to get out of there to prove myself that that wasn't the case.
After I hurriedly wore my clothes, I washed my face hoping that my swollen eyes would subside a bit. They didn't, but it's okay. I checked furtively around the room to make sure I didn't forget anything. My heart dreaded the possibility of Darcy walking in through the door, I felt like I had to run away as fast as I could. As I turned the door knob and opened the door, my glance went to the card key of the room. Should I leave the room just like this? What happens to penthouse suites in big hotels which are left unlocked? My rationality was unable to decide what to do about the key. It wouldn't be such a big deal, I thought. Just get out of there, Liz. You should have bolted out of that wretched elevator yesterday, but you have the chance now.
I peeped out in the corridor to see a woman walking with a trolley coming from the service elevators. She passed me as I slowly shut the door and jauntily said, "Good morning, miss".
I smiled back and nodded at her as she turned around a corner. I went by the elevators and called one.
What if one carrying Darcy comes up? My heart started beating drums in my chest. Its just morning, he is not coming back so soon. The digital display showed the lift speeding up the building. It suddenly flashed "PH" and soon followed by the doors opening. I saw the doors split with dreadful anticipation to find it empty. The sight of the empty elevator made me froze for a few seconds before a soft ping announced its imminent closing. I entered the lift and pressed the button for ground floor. The lift didn't close and I panicked. I pressed the button to close doors repeatedly until it complied lazily.
For the whole minute I stood glued to the door, pretending as if the corners of this elevator are already occupied by some unseemly monsters. The mere thought of turning and looking behind me was giving me impossible chills.
My heart finally calmed down when the elevator reached the ground floor and opened to reveal a very busy Saturday lobby. I was immeasurably grateful for the crowd as I knew I could slip by inconspicuously.
Even after coming out of the building I couldn't calm myself down and I am pretty sure I sprinted out of the complex onto the road. I looked both sides of the street hoping to find a taxi. I finally found one.
"Where to?" he asked absent-mindedly.
"Santa…." I started but I stopped myself abruptly.
"Where?" he asked confused.
"Venice Beach" I said after a few seconds of thoughts.
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Thanks to the LA traffic, by the time I reached the broadwalk, it was a good few hours into the afternoon. I was expecting it to be crowded, but for some reason it wasn't. At least not as crowded as it usually was on weekends. A vlogger passed by me rapidly, carrying a long selfie stick as I got out of the cab and I started to picture myself in the frame of some random internet video. I walked on lazily, the breeze tousling the tangles of my hair. I don't even know how horrible I looked, with messy hair and yesterday's clothes. I didn't care; I just wanted to keep walking. But soon my body gave in, I felt weak as I stopped and leaned by a fence. I stared at the sea, the birds flying in some mysterious rhythmic motion over the horizon. I felt lost in the hypnotic waves, I might as well have fallen asleep leaning over that fence, if it hadn't been for a familiar voice.
"Lizzie?" Aiden called.
I slowly turned around, squinting at him as if he was some phantom.
He smiled a bit nervously as he looked on with a concerned expression.
When I finally realized that it was indeed Aidan in flesh, I lazily moved over to him and gave him a hug. He was initially a bit taken aback but he replied with warmth.
I pulled back from him and so did he. Due to our concerted effort to pull back from each other we soon stood at a distance that wasn't awkward. I was very surprised by how un-awkward it was.
There was a few moments worth of silence before I said, "I was going to get something to eat, do you want to join me?"
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"You look kind of awful" he said good-naturedly as we settled on the sand with our burritos. I laughed and gestured in agreement. A little baby played with her comically large dog nearby.
"I mean it wasn't even such a long relationship" he continued, taking a bite from the burrito, insinuating that it was because of the break up between us.
"Yeah and it wasn't even you who was the asshole in the relationship" I said sardonically as I unwrapped mine.
He sighed and looked at me in pity. "Lizzie, I have thought about it a lot now and I think maybe I was at fault here too. Maybe I rushed into it too much, you know" he said trying to reassure me.
"Aidan," I said, "you really don't have to be so nice to me. I can face the truth; I was being a massive jerk to you."
He smiled again but shook his head in mild disagreement.
"I thought I would never see you again" I said.
"Me too" he replied quietly looking seawards. "I made up my mind to never see you again."
There were a few moments of silence which was broken by the rustle of wrapping paper and the distant squeals of laughter from the baby.
"I didn't want to leave our relationship on such a bitter note" he said.
"So what now?" I asked.
He closed his eyes and drew a long breath, and then he smiled and said "Nothing" without opening his eyes.
"What do you mean nothing?" I asked.
"I mean, it sure did hurt a bit, Lizzie, the way you kept things from me. I still do like you a lot, but I don't think we should have dated, ever."
"Why do you think that?"
"It was pretty obvious from the beginning," he paused and looked towards me, "that you weren't happy."
I looked into his eyes for a few moments. He seemed very sure about what he just said, and I started having this feeling that he was also maybe right.
The baby girl walked towards Aidan and offered him a raisin that she had in her hand. Aidan smiled at the girl and gently refused. The baby then turned to me and pulled another raisin out of her mouth and offered it to me. Me and Aidan exchanged glances and burst out in a laugh. The girl joined in too, adorably oblivious to the humor of the situation but compelled nevertheless to join her new friends in the funny moment. Her mother soon approached panting and picked her up while looking at us with a semi-apologetic expression, "I am so sorry I have told her not to do this many times".
"Don't worry about it" I replied still beaming at the delightful child, "your baby is adorable."
"Oh thank you" the woman replied smiling at both of us. She turned and conversed with her baby in a made-up yet warm voice as the baby looked at me over her mother's gentle shoulder.
"According to my mother" said Aidan, "my first word was 'crow'".
I chuckled.
"You're kidding." I said.
"No I'm serious" he said, "what were yours?"
I fell silent for a moment as I looked at him retaining my newfound smile.
"I don't know" I said, "I was raised by many nannies"
"Oh" he said in a rather neutral, pleasant way. I was expecting him to pity me a bit but he didn't. I felt a bit stronger.
We sat there on the sand for a few more minutes as the sun seem to be rapidly descending into the silver sea. It was so comfortable, so peaceful. Right there on that patch of beach, it felt like I was somewhere familiar. And then he cleared his throat.
"You know, Lizzie" he started, "I am not here to psychoanalyze you or anything. All I want to say, as your friend, as someone who knows you since school, is that you need to sort some issues out"
"What do you mean?"
"One of the biggest mistake I made jumping into the relationship we had was thinking that I would make you happy. When I heard about you and Darcy, I …. I was mad, maybe at you or myself, but I was mad thinking that you're not happy with me. But then I realized, that there is only one person who can make you happy, like actually happy."
"And who is that?"
"Elizabeth Bennet"
I scoffed.
"I'm serious" he said smiling, "I genuinely thought that I would, you know, 'fix' you. And I apologize for thinking like that"
I started nodding my head trying to non verbally deny these self-accusations he was making but he interrupted, "it really was a very unhealthy way of being in love, I think. And I don't know what it is that you're going through, but just know that you can get out of it. I understand you might not have had a happy family life or anything, and you might find it impossible to be happy, but you don't have to be defined by any of that. No amount of Frank or Aidan or Jane or Mrs. Bennet is going to make you happy unless you aren't, and let me tell you, Lizzie, you're extremely unhappy. Like, its painfully obvious to me."
"We had a good time" he said, "but you are looking for different things."
I fell silent listening to him.
"So what now?" I asked after a couple of minutes.
"I'm going to sit here for the sunset" he said, "it is going to be a beautiful one, I can tell."
The sky was beginning to be streaked by perfect little patches of clouds. There was still time, but I could tell that they would soon turn cotton candy-pink when the sun would kiss the watery horizon. The noise of the seagulls and the birds was getting excited as the time passed. It would be a truly breathtaking view, I thought.
I suddenly was overcome by a calm wave of peace. I looked at Aidan, as he looked on, looking completely peaceful and serene.
"All the best, Aidan" I said, "I hope you get everything you want in life" I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you" he said as he saw me getting up to leave, "I hope you can find what you're looking for."
I smiled at him and turned around to walk away. I took a few deep breaths and for the first time since a while, beamed at myself for no reason.
