Fears and Scars (14 page)

“
Y
ou should have accepted
that internship,” Nina says, shifting her gaze from the TV screen to me.

Having Friday movie night, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, and eating junk food after a long work week is exactly what the doctor ordered. Having my bestie interrogate me about why I declined a photography internship—not so much.

“I don’t have time for it. Or the desire,” I answer and watch as Nina fake-pouts at me.

“But you’re so talented.” She gestures toward my portfolio on the coffee table. The portfolio I didn’t even make or knew existed. It was sent back to me after I declined the unexpected offer, the last slap in the face from Ry—the person I don’t think about. “I know you’re busy, but it was an amazing opportunity.”

I agree with Nina’s assessment, but my priorities are different these days. Last week, I took a loan and enrolled in two evening classes for the summer semester at the best local university.

“I don’t see myself behind the lens professionally,” I tell Nina. “Plus my evening classes start in June. It’s only a month away. Between work, Granny, online classes, and now evening classes, I’d be … well, busy is an understatement. Plus, I kind of gave up on photography after I moved here.”

“I’ll help you with anything you want if you let me decorate our apartment with your masterpieces.”

“I’ll think about it.” I smile at my friend and reach over to grab a handful of popcorn from her bowl since mine is already empty.

“How was your day?” I inquire, remembering I spotted the open bottle of wine in the kitchen when I came home, which means Nina talked to one of her parents today.

“Okay, I guess,” she says shrugging.

As I toss a few pieces of popcorn in my mouth, I consider if pressing her about it will do any good. She’s had a rough couple of weeks. And Nina is like me—she’ll share only when she’s ready.

“Oh, I was courted today.” Her unexpected admission piques my interest. “Courted … like by a man?”

“By a real gentleman over there,” she says, pointing to Snow, who is curled up on a chair to our right. “He brought me his chew toy, wet and all, as soon as I stepped in the door tonight.”

“Yikes!”

Laughter rolls through me. “It must be love.”

“Must be.”

My friend and my cat are hilarious.

We watch the film in silence for some time before Nina exhales loudly and confesses, “My day was a complete mess, Liza. Mom called me first thing in the morning crying that Dad’s trying to steal me from her. She thinks my father wants me to move to L.A. He does, but he isn’t pressuring me or anything, he just told me I’m more than welcome in his house. Then I was foolish enough to tell Mom, and she tends to blow things out of proportion. I just don’t know what to think, who to believe. Dad’s story is just so different from Mom’s. Of course, I should believe my mom, she is all I’ve ever had, and Andrew is one hundred percent on her side.” She shakes her head, “Like I said, everything’s so messy. Oh, and my new job sucks ass. Big time. Never agree to work for your ex.” Instantly, remorse creases the corners of her eyes, “I mean …”

The stab to my heart is immediate, but I know damn well she didn’t mean to rub salt in my wounds. So, I manage a smile. “Nina, it’s okay.”

“You know what?” she suggests enthusiastically, “Let’s just watch the film, fill our bellies with junk food, and forget everything else. No talk about parents, brothers, or ex-boyfriends.”

“Agreed.”

And we do just that.

A
couple of hours later
, I’m lying in my bed with Snow curled next to me, begging for sleep to come.

It has to come so I won’t think about things I shouldn’t. But the more I try to push these thoughts away, the more they surface. I guess it doesn’t help that everything reminds me of Ryan. Everywhere I look, everywhere I go, there’s a memory of the two of us together. We even spent several nights in the exact same bed I’m in right now.

Shit. I won’t think about him. I won’t. I’m moving on with my life.

I would be lying if I said the breakup with Ryan didn’t shatter me into a billion of the tiniest pieces. Because it did. I was a total wreck. I still am. Even after a month, some days it seems like I’m barely breathing.

After our phone call, I cried the whole day. And night. The pain was so excruciating; I wanted to curl up into the tightest ball and die.

Then I hoped. Staring into space, I wholeheartedly hoped Ryan would fly back to Moscow and beg for my forgiveness. My imagination painted him rushing through the door, falling to his knees, and groveling. But even though I begged for my fantasies to come true with everything I was, they didn’t.

Hope died on day three, along with patience. That day I vowed to say goodbye to tears. Ryan didn’t deserve a single one of them for leaving me and not looking back. Bastard.

Yes, then there was anger. I liked how powerful fury made me feel. The first result was the phone he gave me forcibly thrown across the room and the sheets torn to tiny pieces.

Around day four, I managed to control my anger. I needed to go on with my life. I needed to keep functioning, to work.

I gathered whatever strength I had inside me and held it tight while I grabbed anything I saw that was mine and Snow’s. I can’t describe how hard it was to tug the engagement ring off my finger and leave it on top of Ryan’s desk, but I managed to do it without one tear.

I didn’t leave any note deciding he didn’t deserve to hear another word from me.

When Nina came back from seeing her brother, she found me moved back into Granny’s flat, sitting on the floor in her room—since it was the only place void of memories for me. She didn’t ask questions. She called my work and told Anna I was sick, then made a pot of tea, brought tons of chocolate ice cream, and moved the TV into her room to distract me. When there was no ice cream left, I told her everything. She wrapped her arms around me, told me it was going to be okay, and stormed out the door. To hunt Ryan down? I really didn’t care by that point.

Then she was back with a bottle of vodka. “Fuck tea,” she told me. “We need something stronger.” And we got wasted. I even laughed when Nina called Mark and described what a worthless piece of shit his brother was a mix of English and Russian curse words, half of which I’d never heard before. After she hung up with Mark, she swore she’d cut Ryan’s balls off. She also asked me to forgive her for approving of Ryan so much. I hated that she felt guilty. This wasn’t her fault.

After my anger had dissipated, I found my determination. So what if my life went from amazing to shit again? This time I refused to just give up. I needed to move on. And I did. I threw myself into work and studying and spent as much time as I could with Granny. Besides trying to be as busy as was humanly possible, I also returned to grief therapy. The progress I’d made was undeniable, and I didn’t want to lose ground.

Moving on with my life hasn’t been easy. Figuring out how to keep living without thinking about Ryan constantly has been difficult. Living in the apartment where everything reminds me of him hasn’t helped the situation. But the truth is, I didn’t have other options. I didn’t have money to rent a different place. Plus, he left pieces of himself everywhere. The only way to move on was to suck it up. And I did. Even though it took all my strength to fight the myriad of feelings tortured me.

Hurt has been the hardest one to overcome. I wanted to cry, beat the shit out of something or someone, scream, weep, and hop on the plane to New York to ask Ryan in person what the hell was wrong with him.

There had been times when missing him hurt so much that I just wanted to forget I even knew him at all, to erase all memories like that vampire Elena did in Nina’s favorite TV show.

Still, the pain was a bitch. It still is—it’s a constant battle to keep hurt at bay.

Confusion and my rich imagination have been playing tricks on me. My mind was constantly searching for an explanation, for some hidden reason why Ryan did this. Scenarios of him discovering he was terminally ill or having a secret child filled my head. The simple truth that he never had real feelings for me and that he had his fun and was done is just too damn painful to swallow.

Laying here now, I think how relationships end just the way they begin—unexpectedly. If I knew things would be like this in the end, would I have chosen to meet him? I would. What we had was real and extraordinary. It was perfect … until it wasn’t.

Even though the hurt Ryan inflicted on me is still raw, I’m fine. I’m strong because I believe in
me
this time. I lost another person I loved, but I’m surviving. No matter what, I have
me
and at this point of my life, I’m all I need.

Eventually, the pain will recede and my feelings for Ryan will fade. The scars on my heart will be the only reminders of our great, epic love.

T
hree months
of not talking to the love of my life. Three months of trying to ignore the feeling that I’m losing Liz more and more with each passing day. Three month of praying there’s still a way back to each other even though I know there’s none. She’ll never forgive me for breaking her heart.

I knew it was gonna hurt to be away from her, but the pain I feel right now is a million times worse than I could ever imagine.

My muscles are screaming from fatigue as I keep hammering on a punching bag. My body is going to hate me later, but I don’t care. Abusing the shit out of it is my new daily ritual. Running and exercising clears my head and keeps my emotions at bay. Or maybe I just like punishing myself for the pain I’ve caused Elizabeth, for being a coward and a bastard. What I did may have seemed selfless to me at one point, but now I know it was cruel and unfair to her. I had one task—just one—to protect Liz’s fragile heart, and I failed.

When my arms feel like they may fall off, I stop. Breathing hard, I make my way to the shower and let the soothing water rush over me.

I remind myself that I need to focus on finalizing details of the latest independent project I’m working on. Another million obligations are waiting for me at the Price Corp. Postponing the opening of my architecture firm was one of the first decisions I’ve made after I broke up with Liz. Fulfilling my dream without her to share it with means nothing.

This is what the rest of your life is going to be, Price. Gym, work, late-night driving when you can’t sleep, and a gaping hole of loneliness inside you
, the voice inside my head taunts.

“Shut up,” I scream back, even though it’s the truth.

My brain seems to be my worst enemy these days, unable to shut up long enough for me to just have a minute of peace.

You lost your peace when you broke up with Elizabeth.

Yeah. I lost everything that night. The acrid taste of those lies still burns my tongue.

Liz was my light, and without her, I’m in the darkness once again. But even in the darkness I have my memories. I remember the way she tastes, the luxurious texture of her skin, the warmth of her touch, the love in her eyes, the way her nose scrunches when she doesn’t like something, her delicious scent, and how her silky hair felt between my fingers.

God, how I miss it all. I miss our playful banter, the pleasure of holding her in my arms, the feel of her exquisite body pressed against mine.

The need to see her consumes me. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I go into my bedroom. Photos of Elizabeth are everywhere—that’s another kind of torture I invented for myself, but it’s heaven too. Looking at pictures where she’s smiling brightly, radiating happiness is what keeps me going even though it’s also killing me.

She’s happy now. She started attending evening classes at the beginning of the summer. And of course, I’m tracking her every move. I can’t help myself, motivated by the desire to keep her safe.

Distant sounds of a video game coming from the living room make me look at the clock on the bedside table. Shit, the car must already be waiting downstairs. I hate being late.

I’m a serious basket case these days, and I need to snap out of it.

When I stalk into the kitchen ten minutes later, the open floor plan gives me an unobstructed view of the living room where Jacob and Mark are furiously clicking their controllers, their gazes glued to the flat screen in front of them.

“Come on, fucker,” my brother screams while Jacob makes a victory sound.

“Mark, language,” I roar.

He’s a terrible influence on Elizabeth’s brother.

Mark’s gaze shifts to me. “You’re hearing things, bro,” he says grinning, and I shoot him a warning glare across the room.

“You should get that checked out,” Jacob joins him.

Perfect. Are they best friends now?

Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I join them on the couch. “Therapy’s in half an hour. Are you two ready?”

While Jacob just grunts under his breath, my bother voices his disappointment, “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes we do,” I say glancing at the bed in the corner of the room where Jacob still sleeps. His court-mandated therapy ended last week, but he agreed to continue only if I went too. I decided to push Mark into joining us.

“It sounds sick,” my brother declares, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Three dudes talking about their problems and feelings with some chick.”

“Firstly, we’ll have different therapists. And I made sure yours is a man.”

“And why’s that?” He seems genuinely perplexed.

“Because you need to deal with your pay-’em-love-’em-and-leave-’em thing,” Jacob answers for me. God, the fact that he knows so much about Mark’s sex life is proof I’m a terrible guardian for a fifteen-year-old.

“Not cool, dude,” my brother tells Jacob.

“I mean deal with your lady issues,” Jacob clarifies.

“I don’t have—” Mark starts protesting, but I interrupt him.

“Enough talking. Get moving. The car’s already here.”

Every muscle in my body aches when I get up, but I welcome it. All I can do to keep from losing my fucking sanity is to focus on the one thing I know that can be helped right now—Jacob.

The hell of my own making isn’t so bad when I remember Jacob told me he felt like he needed more hours with his tutor. He’s on the right track. That’s proof the sacrifice I made hasn’t been in vain.