FOREVER MINE (2 page)

Stirring form the past I roll over and gently shake the sleeping form to my right.

“Hey, Steph, I’m going to run out for a bit, ok?” I whisper to my sleeping girlfriend.

“Yeah, I heard.” She sounds wide awake. “Everytime that bitch calls you go running.  What the fuck is wrong with her?  She knows you have a life, with a girlfriend, and a home, which she is not a part of!!” She is pissed… again.

Sighing and preparing myself for our usual fight I get out of bed and get dressed.  “You know she has no one else.”

“And that’s your problem, how?”

“I’m not fighting with you about this again.  She sounded really bad.  I won’t be too long.” I lean over to kiss her good bye and get her hand pushing my face away.

“One day I won’t be here when you get back”

“I hope one day you will understand why this is important to me, why
she
is important to me.” Then I walk out the door knowing that what I’m doing to her is wrong and I’m a bastard for doing it.

When I arrive at the diner, I see she’s already waiting for me.  She sits in the back so she can see the whole place.  Her eyes scan the diner, watching for anyone that makes sudden movements.  When I walk in she visibly relaxes. I love that I can do that for her.  I walk closer to the table and she stands and launches herself into my arms.

I turn my phone off and shove it in my pocket.  I barely kept it together when I was on the phone with him.  I feel so selfish always asking him to come to me.  I used to just show up at his house, but that was before Steph.  She’s a nice girl.  Sweet, kind, and loves Brody.  You can see how much she cares just by looking at her.  I hate her.  I’m not sure why, but I hate her. Maybe, because she is everything I once was, everything I want to be, and everything I will never be again.  Now that they have moved in together, we meet at different places, away from his house.
Away from Steph.

I turn the corner and find our diner.  We started calling it that when we realized how often we met there.  Then it became the only place we went.  It is open 24/7, has decent food, and nobody cares who you are or why your there.  The waitress brings your food, gives refills when needed, and stays away when she’s finished. She gets shitty tips anyway, so why should she go out of her way.

When I walk in the door, I see my favorite booth in the back is empty, and take a few calming breaths.  I sit there so I can watch the people that walk in.  Call me paranoid, but it’s what makes me feel safe.  I can’t be caught unaware with him still out there.

I order 2 coffees and wait.  The smell of buttery toast, burnt coffee, and eggs brings on an assault of memories of a previous life better forgotten.  When I was a girl, not the bitter women that is sitting here now, and he was a handsome boy out with his friends, not the crazy jealous man trying to kill his ex-girlfriend.
Fiancé.
We almost married. A shiver runs down my spine, making the dull ache in my head return.

The group of boys walks into the diner.  They are all attractive, confident, and having a really good time. They were still talking about the football game that our high school just won.  One of the boys stood out from the others.  He has dark blonde hair and light brown, almost gold, eyes.  He is around 6’ tall and nicely muscled.  I don’t like a lot of bulk. I do like definition.

He walks up to our table and immediately I’m disappointed because the conversation I had with him in my head, is over and I am positive he is here to talk to my friend, Samantha Montgomery.  She is popular and beautiful. She is every 17 year olds wet dream.  She is sex on 2 legs, and she knows it.

She bats her lashes, licks her lips, and pushes her tits up just enough to draw the eye, while looking up at the blonde hunk of man/boy that has approached our table.  “Hey, handsome, what can I do for you?”  She purrs.

“Well, you can start by telling me your friend’s name.” he turns to wink at me.

My heart pounds, my lips and mouth have gone as dry as the Sahara, and I think my lungs stopped working. 

Smiling at him I put on my best Samantha face and say “Charlie.  My name is Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlie.
  I’m Michael Ryan Parker. My friends call me Mike.”  It was so cheesy and unimaginative, yet I fell for it. 
Hook, line, and sinker.
  Mike was the most charming boy I had ever met in all of my 17 years.  I couldn’t get enough. 

The rest of the night was a blur.  Our groups joined up and had a blast sitting in the diner discussing football, baseball, and the plus and minuses of being a wrestler.  All of which, I could care less about, but as long as Mike kept talking, I would pretend to be interested.  So I listened with all the enthusiasm of an avid fan and commented where I thought I knew enough to not sound amateurish.

Later in the evening, Brody showed up with the flavor of the week and they too joined our misfit group.  There were so many of us we had to take two booths.  We stayed out until curfew, and Mike offered to drive me home.  I was thrilled. Brody decided it was a good time for a lecture about taking rides with strange boys. Not wanting the joyful feeling to end I ignored him and left with Mike.

At my front door Mike sweetly kissed my cheek saying what a wonderful time he had and he would like to see me again. We exchanged phone numbers and made plans for the next weekend.  I said good night, went inside and called Brody and Sam to let them know I was home and safe. Thankfully Brody’s phone went straight to voicemail, Sam and I talked for awhile.  I briefly filled her in on the ride home and our plans. I took a shower, dried my hair, and tried to quiet my frantically beating heart enough to sleep.

The sound of the diner door opening and closing woke me suddenly from my day dreams.  Anxiously, I take in my surroundings, furious that I wasn’t paying attention when I see him.  He is walking slowly toward our table.  I breathe a sigh of relief, and stand to greet him, and before I can think about the reasons, I launch into his arms.  His smell surrounds me.  I’m home. I have been here a thousand times before and yet everytime feels better than the last.  When will I ever stop needing this man? I am such a selfish Bitch.

“
Shhh
, I got you.  I’m right here. You’re safe, now.” He strokes my hair and whispers into my neck.

After a couple minutes I untangle myself from Brody and motion to our booth. “Come on we better sit I have a lot to tell you.”

She feels so good in my arms, like they were made just for this purpose. Does she feel how I’m trembling?  I wonder if she knows the lengths I am willing to go to make sure she is safe.  I won’t let her out of my life.  If this is the only way I can have her, I’ll take it.

We make it over to our booth.  I laugh to myself thinking how incredibly stupid it is to be so excited about calling a booth in a diner “ours”.  Shaking my head I sit down and smile when I realize she ordered me a coffee, just how I like it, black, and two sugars. Holding the cup to give my hands something, to do besides grabbing onto her, I look up into her green eyes and ask “Alright, Char, what is going on?”

She says, “You’ve been really busy with Steph and I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass, so I’ve been trying not to call all the time.  Tonight, I had to.”  

She looks ashamed.  I hate that look. I want to make it go away, but I have to be careful here because she is a pain in the ass.  Everytime I give her something she wants more. She doesn’t do it purposely; she just has no one else she can trust.  I try not to but I usually give in anyway, hence the fight between Steph and me earlier.  We need boundaries.  I just keep forgetting what they are.

“You are a pain, now tell me.” I am starting to get angry, at her for keeping whatever it is from me, and myself for making her feel like a burden.

She looks up with unshed tears glistening at the edge of her beautiful green eyes.  I realize that she isn’t sad, she is terrified.

“I saw him tonight. He came into my work when I was leaving.  He put his hands on me.  I could smell the aftershave he always wears.  Then, he chased me down the alley two blocks away.  The guard at my office must’ve called the cops because while I was hiding, they showed up and chased him away.”

This comes out in a rush of consequential words, and emotionally charged sentences.  It’s hurried and when she breathlessly finishes, I know there is more.

My breathing is labored; my head hurts from my barely suppressed rage. My whole body shakes with it.  I calm myself because I don’t want to take it out on her.  When I look up at her, her head is down, eyes are closed, and she is biting her trembling lip.

Reaching for her hand I hold it for a minute before I speak.  “What did the cops say?”

Without looking up, “I don’t know, I left before they came back for me.”

I can’t believe what she has just said.  “You left?
Without talking to them?
  They have no idea what that fucker did to you.” I am yelling at her now.  How could she be so stupid?

“We are going to the station, let’s go!”  I start to get up and realize she hasn’t moved.

“I am not going there. I am not retelling that horrific story, again.  They have it on record.”  Great, now she’s angry.  There is no convincing her once she’s mad.

Rubbing my hand over my rough face, trying to calm myself, I say, “They don’t know what is going on, they don’t even know you were the one in the alley. You left. 
How can they help you, if they don’t know who was there?”
 

“Fine, I will go in the morning, now sit down and have coffee with me, please.  I just need something normal right now.  Unless Steph needs you home?”  She looks up; the fear is there in her eyes, as usual I can’t deny her.

I sit down, “No, she won’t miss me; she was sleeping anyway, when I left.” I lie to her. It’s not a big one, but I know if she knows about our fight, she’ll want me to leave.  I don’t want to leave. In learning of the events that have just taken place, I don’t know if I will ever want to leave her again. 

After we have coffee I drive her to her apartment, walk her to the door, and go inside to make sure she is alone.  Everything is fine, so I tell her to lock the door before I leave.  Standing in the hallway I wait to hear the locks click and the dead bolt slide home, and then I turn and walk back to my car to wait for her to fall asleep.

Home sweet home.
  Yeah, right.  I don’t like that I feel unsafe in my apartment.  It’s not much, but it’s mine.  Michael always told me I would never make it without him.  I always believed him.  I look around my one bedroom apartment.  I really love it.  It is small but you don’t feel claustrophobic.  The living, dining, and kitchen all flow into each other.  My bedroom and bathroom are the only separate spaces.  Everything is painted the same warm, tan color.  The living room has a beautiful red/brown brick wall with fireplace.  Right now it is housing my TV and CD player. The kitchen has all new stainless appliances. Love that. 

I shuffle over to my overstuffed, chocolate brown, corduroy, sofa, and plop my tired ass down with the intention of not moving for the rest of the night.  Sitting here alone, looking at my tan walls and brick fireplace, I feel the events of the evening running around and around inside my head.   

**********

It’s 6 o’clock in the afternoon.  This is when I send out e-mail reminders for meetings tomorrow.  I empty coffee pots of old coffee and prepare it with clean water and fresh grounds for the morning.  Empty the break room of any trash and wipe the counter down.  It’s not my job but I like to stay busy. Finally, I knock and
peek
my head in on Mrs. Smith and see if there are any last minute requests.

“Hey Mrs. Smith, Do you need anything? I’m headed out for the night?”

“No, Charlie, I’m good. Thanks” She has such a warm smile.  I remember my mom smiling like that when I was younger.  My mom died when I was with Michael.  He thought it would be too hard for me to see her in a coffin, so he went for me and gave my condolences, saying I was too bereft to attend.  Having no siblings, and my father died of pancreatic cancer when I was 2, Michael took care of everything.

“Alright then, I’m going home, I will see you Monday.” Waving and smiling my way out the door, I called behind me as the door closes, “Have a great weekend!”

“You to dear.”
I can hear the smile behind her words.  She knows how anxious I am to go home for the weekend.

As I ride the elevator down the 4 floors to the lobby I feel a lightness that I haven’t felt for awhile.  I started getting random flower deliveries for the last month and a half; one, a week.  I thought it was weird considering no one has shown interest in me that way and thankfully Michael hasn’t been seen or heard of since the restraining order 3 years ago.

It was actually kind of thrilling to have a secret admirer.  I never had one before.  Not that I’m unattractive.  I’m cute enough.  My naturally curly hair is dark brown, it used to be blonde. Ugh, I wish someone would have told me how washed out I look as a blonde.  I added some red highlights to it recently and I like it, a lot. My eyes are probably my best feature.  They are green. 
A light green, with dark green ring around the outside edge, and yellow center, not gold, yellow.
  Their like cats eyes.  That’s what my mom always said.  I like my dark hair with the light eyes.  My skin is pasty right now, but my olive skin tone will be golden in a couple of weeks when the summer sun shines at its brightest.

My nose is a little wide, but I wouldn’t consider it a deal breaker.  I have a generous mouth, with full lips and a big, devilish, straight smile.  I was fortunate enough to never need braces, although I have couple of crooked teeth on the bottom I think they add to my charm.  Nobody should want too much perfection.

I have always been a little self conscious of my height, at 5’9”; I’m tall for a girl.  In high school I had a hard time with boys because I was taller than most of them.  Until our senior year, it seems boys are late bloomers but when they bloom they BLOOM. Well, except Brody, I think he grew all at once in 8
^th
grade.

I remember how awkward he was walking in to class his first day.  He looked like a man in a sea of boys.  I think from that day we were inseparable.  When we entered high school he grew a little bit over the years finally finishing at 6’4.5”. He makes me feel small.  At 133, I weigh in on the lighter side of the scale.  I am lean, not skinny.  I think its nervous energy.  I am always on the move, unless I’m sleeping.

As I exit the elevator, I wave to George are security guard.  He calls me over, and I see he has a flower delivery for me. 

“It just arrived.  You almost missed it.” He oozes enthusiasm.

“Oh, I didn’t think I was getting one this week.” I take the small bouquet of yellow roses, which happen to be my favorite, and head out the door.

It’s darker than normal for this time of night.  The rain has been a constant companion this week.  I am dreaming of the warm sun beating down from the sky and warming me from the inside out, when someone brushes up against me very softly.  I jump and my heart races.  Why am I scared, no terrified?  My body is reacting to an unseen threat, I trust my body, so I pick up the pace but I don’t want to alert whoever is following me so closely. I can smell their cologne. That’s when it hits me, oh my
god, that smell
. I’m gagging.  The sweat is starting to pour down my back.  I can’t tell how close or far he is because the rain is distorting all the sounds around me. 

The crowd has thinned out I know up ahead is an alley; I can run there and hide.  Just as the thought enters my head, I am thrown into the wall of the building next to me.  The flowers fall forgotten from my hand. 

My worst nightmare is coming true right before my eyes.  His dark blonde hair is now more of a light brown, but his evil golden eyes are the same; soulless, empty, without compassion.  I feel his erratic breathing against my face.  I turn my head so I don’t have to look into his eyes and see my impending demise.  The last time he was this close to me I almost didn’t make it.  I can’t think. I know I’m supposed to do something. 

“Hello, my beautiful, Charlie.” He whispers in my ear rubbing his cheek against mine. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. Have you liked the flowers I sent? I tried to send them on different days to make it more intriguing.”

Watching my face fall and the hurt enter my eyes he laughs.  Laughs as only a sociopath can laugh. “Did you think you had an admirer? Silly girl, you know no one but I will ever love you.  You’re too broken for anyone else.”
Again with the laughing.
“I made sure of that.”

At that moment something in me came alive, unfrozen. I screamed in his face, “YOU WILL NEVER HAVE ME AGAIN!!” I reached up raking my nails down his face, grab his shoulders for balance and ram my knee into his crotch as hard as I can. Pushing away from the wall I turn and run towards the alley.  His screaming was the fuel that kept me moving. I ducked behind a dumpster; all I could hear was his enraged breathing.  His screams stopped, I couldn’t tell how far away he was.  All I could do was sit still and listen to the echoing footfalls coming toward me.

**********

I woke up to the pounding at my door.  I still felt the sweat clinging to my clothes, the disguising smell of the dumpster coating the back of my nose and throat. Laying there for a second longer trying to get my head back in the present, I look over at the clock, its 8 am, and time to get up and face the day.

“Alright, alright I’m coming.” Still in my clothes from the day before, I shuffle to the door, click the locks, and peer out trough the chain. “You have better have brought me coffee.” I sneer at the beautifully handsome face grinning at me.  The look in his eye makes me melt into a puddle on the floor, despite wanting to be irritated.

“Good morning to you, too, princess.” He says knowing I hate the nick name.

“Say that again and I won’t let you in.” 

“Oh, come on, I brought you a raspberry danish” he sings it. “And coffee, just the way you like it.”

“Alright,” closing the door, sliding the chain back, I open the door all the way to allow him to come in. “come on, get in here.”

“Did you sleep in your clothes, or are you crabby because you
didn’t
sleep?”

“I passed out on the couch last night. My eyes closed but I don’t know if I would call what happened, sleep.”

“Well, go get cleaned up, you smell.” He laughs and winks at me. “I’ll warm your
danish
while you’re showering.”

“My hero.”
I mock, leaving the room to take care of my girly functions.

Before I turn to leave my little eat in kitchen, with warm walls and stainless steel appliances, I watch him make himself at home, like he belongs there.  I wish, is my last thought as I leave the room.