RUINING ANGEL (11 page)

Carron was working as a doctor at the local hospital when I needed stitches for a laceration to my arm. There were a lot of renovations to do on the house, and with money starting to dwindle I had taken upon doing them myself. It was silly really, but a simple slip on the wet driveway allowed the broken window I was carrying to slip and slice deeply into my arm. I bandaged it quickly and drove myself to the Columbia Memorial Hospital.

The minute I laid eyes on him I knew he was a kind man. He had warm hazel eyes that twinkled behind his glasses. I knew he was a lot older than me by the whispers of grey hair that graced his sideburns. He fixed my arm, and I wondered if he might be able to fix the rest of me too.

For a while, I didn’t think I would ever be able to be with another man. Carron changed that. He pursued me relentlessly for six months until I said I would go out with him. At first I thought it would just be companionship. But he offered stability when all I had known was destruction and hopelessness. I gave myself to him in the only way I knew how – I slept with him. That was a year and a half ago.

Recently, Carron asked me to marry him. I said yes. Not because I’m in love with him – because I’m not. I do love him, though only as much as one can when they feel their soul is ultimately tied to another. It has always been this way since I was fifteen. I know my feelings will never change, so I have made the best of what I can. Life with Carron sometimes feels like a lie. Sometimes I feel like a rotten shit for keeping him around, especially when he looks at me with those eyes. Sad and soulful – willing me to give him more than I am capable of. But I will never be able to give him the love he deserves.

He never quits on me, though. My life with him sometimes seems like one big apology, and I know he tries to figure out how to unlock the secrets of my heart. But to be honest, I’m sure if he ever did he would wish he’d never bothered because I know he will not like what he finds there.

I’m walking home from work. It’s the middle of November and a chilly seven degrees out. The late afternoon sun is weak and watery and a cool breeze floats off the water. My hands are full of grocery bags with food to prepare a meal. We are having dinner tonight with friends – his friends. As with every aspect of my life, I am a reluctant participant in what I consider mundane socialization.

Carron sees things completely differently, of course, but manages to hide his embarrassment and confusion at my lack of social graces quite well. I’m sure his friends think of me as snobby or standoffish, but the fact remains I just have no desire for friends. It only means more people I have to lie to and, sometimes, the guilt comes knocking pretty fucking loudly on my door.

I hurry up the hill, struggling to juggle all my grocery sacks. As I make the turn onto Seventeenth Street I am suddenly shocked into coming to an abrupt halt. As he drives by in his car, our eyes connect instantly. I’ve been longing to see him for so long – and here he is, so unexpectedly real, driving out of the street I live on.

Warmth spreads over his dark features and I remember what it is like to run my hands through his short brown hair while his hands caress my body. These thoughts of him are intoxicating. He stops the car, but does not get out. The urge to touch each other would be far too strong for either of us.

The engine of the car hums as exhaust fumes plume out the back of his Dodge Magnum. I want him to run to me, take me away with him and never look back. But he won’t. He wants me to have a normal life, not one where we have to hide. It is a bitter pill to swallow – the fact that I have missed him calling in to see me unexpectedly. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I go into a complete meltdown. I become a junkie, willingly opening up for my fix and then completely falling apart when it is taken away again. Hi, my name’s Bailey Michaels and I’m a sucker for punishment.

The thing is, though, I don’t want normal. I only want him.

No, that’s not even right.

I need him. I need Angel.

Like he always does, he leaves. I’m left standing like someone has just run a knife through my heart and I let out a little sob. It takes all my willpower not to drop to my knees and cry like a baby. I’m close, but by the skin of my teeth manage to pull myself together before the tears start. No matter what my heart desires, I know he can never give it to me. The only problem we both have is learning to accept that fact once and for all.

The wind fiercely whips my long auburn hair across my freckled face and I snap back to reality. I curse when I realize how late it is getting and hurry up the street to my house before Carron gets home. I’m going to need time to compose myself so he doesn’t suspect anything is amiss.

The Victorian house is full of character. I have put every bit of my soul into it and have lovingly restored it to its original glory. The outside is painted in a cream colored paint with black accents here and there. Steps that lead from the footpath to the front door have been painstakingly tiled with a mosaic pattern. It is original and unique which gives the whole house an eclectic feel to it. The side verandah affords views over the whole town and I will often sit in the rocking chair with my cat, just taking in the view. She greets me now as I climb the stairs, wrapping her tail around my ankles and almost tripping me as I go.

‘Shoo Jezebel.’ She meows in response, but persists in her affectionate onslaught. Once inside she runs straight to the bay window to take up her position on the pillow that holds prime real estate next to pipes that carry hot water to heat the house. I ignore her as I head to the kitchen and dump the groceries on the bench.

I’m eager to shower, hoping the water will wash away the tension of the shock at seeing Angel.

The water blasts out of the shower head and I have it as hot as I can stand it. I shampoo my hair, taking longer than usual to knead my fingers across my scalp and massage away the headache that is building. My thoughts drift to Angel and I wish that he could take all my pain away like he did in high school. He saved me that day.

His arms were like a warm blanket around me when I was battered and bruised. Angel always tells me it was I who saved him, but I think he has it a little mixed up. Nobody gets me the way he does.

The only problem is, there is no way in hell we can be together.

Not then, not now, not ever.

I am startled out of my reverie when the bathroom door abruptly opens.

‘Hey Bails are you almost done in there honey?’

‘Ah, yeah.’

‘Okay babe. Do you want me to start peeling the vegetables for tea?’

‘That would be great; I’ll be just a sec.’ My tone belies my misery.

I want to be a happy person for Carron, and for him to be happy with me. Lately, though, I’m not sure I can do this forever. He leaves me to finish up and goes back downstairs to start on dinner.

By the time I join him in the kitchen he has diced all the vegetables and turned the oven on to preheat for the chicken I am going to roast.

‘Thanks for doing the vegetables.’ I kiss his cheek and am comforted by his scent. It is familiar and masculine.

‘Anytime. I poured you a wine.’ He nods to the glass on the end of the bench.

‘Thanks; how was your day?’ Carron’s day varies between manageable and chaotic, depending on what our small town throws at him.

‘My day was great actually,’ he says as he puts the chicken into a roasting tray. ‘I had a sweet little girl come in with a broken arm –

she was very brave though.’ He smiles at the memory.

‘Must have been painful for her.’

‘Yeah, but the promise of a lollipop made her putty in my hands.

Made me think of what it would be like for us to have kids.’ His voice trails off a little. He is wistful, but knows I have never really made plans for the future. Hell, I think when I said yes to his proposal he was more surprised than I.

‘Mmm-hmm.’ I busy myself with setting the table. He eyes me carefully; there is an undercurrent in the air that he can’t ignore.

‘Everything okay? How was your day?’

‘It was alright. A little tiring, that’s all.’

I work for Danzar. It’s a high-end fashion magazine that distributes out of Boston. Their head office is there, but they have staff working for them all over the country. We have a small office in town because I am lucky enough that there are four of us in the area who do contract work for them on a regular basis. We all obtained our positions through word of mouth. My best, and only girlfriend Lyra works there as a photographer, but even she doesn’t know my secret. I’m also good friends with James who works in our office.

He used to live next door to the house we vacationed in when I was little. We’ve stayed really close over the years.

Carron nods, willing to accept my response, but I’m not sure he is really buying it. A ring of the doorbell saves me from further explanation. I shove thoughts of Angel back down to the bottom of my heart and lock the door for the day. It is dangerous to start thinking of him when I am in the company of others.

Dinner is what it always is when Carron’s colleagues come for a meal. All they talk about is medical shit that I find completely boring. I drink too much red wine to pass the time and smile and nod at intermittent points in their conversation. Scott and Leila are a husband and wife team who work the pediatric ward in the hospital. They’re a little older than Carron who is already a good seven years older than me at thirty-three. I’m sure it is just in my head, but I always feel that his friends who are older than me tend to look down on me.

Leila offers to help with dessert, although I politely refuse. I’m going to sneak a quick ciggie out on the back patio and don’t want her hanging around. I clear the plates to take with me and dump them on the kitchen bench. While I warm some ready-made fudge in the microwave, I sneak out the side door to have my fix. This is not a regular habit, but one I indulge in when I have had too many drinks. The nicotine goes straight to my head and the ground spins before me. Being drunk takes the edge off my day. My mind flits from one thought to the next, which is great because I don’t really want to focus on him. I’m startled when the door opens and the warmth from inside spills out into the frigid air.

‘I thought I’d find you out here.’ Carron slinks in behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. The guilt creeps up. Yeah, just add it to the list, my subconscious yells at me.

‘Sorry,’ I say as I take the last drag and exhale into the black sky.

‘Those things will kill you, you know.’ It’s his standard doctor line every time he catches me out. I respond the same way I always do.

‘Not today they won’t.’ He chuckles. He knows he won’t win this argument with me – it’s just a verbal dance we always do. I like that he respects me enough to let me do what I want to do.

‘Don’t be too long,’ he admonishes, kissing the back of my head,

‘our guest are waiting for dessert.’

‘Coming now.’

The cigarette is ground out and I follow him back into the kitchen.

Dessert is plated up and Carron helps me serve it to our guests. He slips me a strong black coffee, attuned to the fact my speech is a little slurred and movements a little slow. Thankfully the rest of the evening goes by rather quickly. They’re all on the a.m. shift, so they leave us not long after the clock strikes 9:00 p.m. The dishes are left where they sit because I promise to do them first thing in the morning. Carron doesn’t argue because he is eager to get to bed.

But I find out it is not for sleep, but sex.

The deed is always missionary position between the two of us.

Since day one Carron observes the unwritten rule never to expect anything else. The truth is, I am one kinky bitch – just not with him because it reminds me too much of being with Angel. So I stick to safe sex positions where my mind doesn’t wander to my lover who took my virginity.

Carron and I always do it in the dark. This way I don’t have to look into his face and feel like I am betraying anyone. It’s just a physical need we both get to satisfy. I know he deserves more, but I am selfish enough to recognize I keep him around because I am unbearably lonely. Unfair, I know, but he has told me he’s not going anywhere. To be honest I think he thinks I am damaged goods and takes pity, but for the life of him I’m sure he can’t figure out how I got to be this way.

We do the routine stuff like brush our teeth and use the toilet before sliding into bed together. It’s cold and I am glad for the warmth of his body. I snuggle up next to him and breathe in his scent. My body relaxes and I wait for him to make the first move. It is always him who does.

He rolls on his side and slides his hands over my hips. His warm, large hands grip me tightly, bringing me closer to him. His fingers trail up my waist and past my ribcage to my breasts. As his lips cup my mouth and softly kiss me, his hand starts to rub my nipples. I let my tongue trail over his lips, the sensation sending a sigh from his mouth. His breath is minty and tickles my cheek.

Carron reaches for my night shorts and tugs them gently down towards my ankles. I don’t wear any panties underneath. What’s the point when I know they will only come off?

He lies down on top of me and I can feel his erection press firmly against my thighs as he makes his way back up to the top. There are never clothes on his body for bedtime, no matter what the weather is like. My top is left on, because he knows I hate feeling cold. That is Carron all over; self-sacrificing to put my needs first.

We continue to kiss. His mouth is urgent and I struggle in my alcohol haze to focus on the present. My mind lingers to this afternoon and the sight of Angel stubbornly refuses to leave my thoughts. While Carron is making love to my body, in my head Angel is making love to my soul. With him occupying my thoughts, my body starts to act accordingly. I’m suddenly needy for touch. My arms wrap around Carron’s neck and pull him eagerly on top of me. Our tongues clash against each other’s and I fight for breath as his touch draws me in. I buck my hips to meet his and his cock probes my sex, gently asking for permission to be inside of me. My legs part wider, granting him access to my wet depths.