Starting another one... maybe chapters? - wish me luck! (Chenzel 3)
Here I am. Again. Waiting on her call like some love-sick groupie.
Is that really all I am? I really do feel like it at moments... Like I just wait until she has free time and then rush to meet her every whim. It's not right; or healthy for that matter. I swear I have some self respect down there somewhere, not that anyone would notice it at any point. I just look like some ditzy blonde barbie for all anyone knows. Well... I guess she sees me more of a ditzy blonde blow-up toy, the way she has me. But there's really nothing I can do. And it kills me! I am nothing more than a glorified booty-call; and a secret one at that.
And there it is; the ring tone she will never hear.
"L... is for the way you look, at me
O... is for the only-"
I pick up as soon as my mind can stand to pull itself out of the trans it puts itself into every time I dare to think about her for too long.
"Hello?" I nearly bark, sounding a little too excited, I think.
I hear her strangely lovely laugh on the other end. "Well hello there." she says through her giggle. "What are you doing?"
I can't help but supply a little laugh of my own. "I thought you woulda guessed by now! -where I always am when I'm not with you."
"Well it doesn't hurt for me to check, hun." she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. She's calling me hun, too; that can only mean that her husband isn't around.
"I'm at home. With Maddie. Where are you?"
"Just leaving the gym... and wondering if I can come over?" she asks like it's a question.
Even though we both know what I'm going to say I pause anyway, thinking about what would happen if I said no.
Yet I don't chance it. "Yeah. How long 'til you're here?" I ask, trying to hide the anticipation.
"Uhhm... It shouldn't be more than twenty minutes; if that."
I can't hide my sigh, wondering if she'll stay any longer than how long it takes her to get here. "I'll be here." I tell her, somehow managing to sound happy about it. And I am, but it's just one of the many emotions I have when she decides she wants to come over.
"Okie dokie... I'll see you in a minute."
"Bye?" I try to get in before she hangs up.
"Bye." She says all too quickly.
And like always I stare at the phone for a minute. I don't know why she has me like she does, but I get butterflies knowing she's about to be next to me. All I have to do is wait for a few minutes and she'll be here. After that I have no control. At least up until she gets here I can decide what I want to do with my time; once she's here all my attention goes on her.
One day I'll tell her I'm out doing something instead of sitting at home waiting for her; like I do every weekend. I wonder what it would be like for her to think that we'd only see eachother on the week days at rehearsal and whatnot. I wonder what she'd say.
Sometimes I wish I could be in that head of hers, just for a little while. I just want to see how she really thinks at times. Like when she's with me, and then what goes through her mind when she leaves and goes back to her husband again. Or when she sneaks me back to the dressing room just to tickle my sides until I hurt from laughing so much and then tells me to hush. Some of her games make me crazy. She makes me crazy. But what can ya do? When someone has you by the heart strings you can't just brush off what they don't tell you, or what you wish you knew about them... and there is so much I wish she would tell me, and still more that she never will.
Without even realizing it a whole ten minutes passed by, and she's going to be here in another few. And I look like a mess!
I rush into the bathroom and take down my hair, hoping and praying that it won't look like I haven't brushed it in the last ten years, and it cooperates. I sigh a little, simply relieved. I suppose the pajama's I haven't changed out of this morning aren't too bad, but I don't want her to think that all I do is wait around for her and-
Oh wait... that IS what I do. Wow.
Nonetheless I put jeans and a T-shirt on, and rush back into the kitchen. Maddie looks at me confused.
"Oh, come on... You already knew I was insane, girly." I mutter to my dog, not really caring she can't understand me. In my mind she can understand me. In my mind I am also five inches taller.
Sometimes I think I really am insane.
I put the kettle on, and get her mug out along with mine, hoping today is a tea day instead of a coffee day, but I can't ever really tell. I've said it before and I'll say it again; she makes me crazy.
I hear the knock at the door just as the kettle starts to whistle and my mind flips between the two; boiling water - knock at the door - boiling and now annoying water...
I pick the door.
I open the door to see her; as beautiful as ever. Her long brown hair is pulled back into her work-out ponytail, and her face still a little flushed, in her over-sized tank, colourful sports bra, and yoga pants... her and her yoga pants. She is a special kind of wonderful and... and she's holding coffee for the both of us.
"I was-" we both try and talk at the same time.
"Wha-" ...and again.
She giggles and nods for me to speak first.
A huge smile manages to leak on to my face before I have a chance to talk. "I was just making tea for us." I say grinning strangely.
"I can hear that." she doesn't try to hide her sarcasm.
"Oh!" I squeek, and run in to take it off the burner. Seeing her steals my mind from all other things that should really be on my mind... like scaulding hot water in my kitchen for starters...
"What are you laughing at?" I throw the question over my shoulder, acting like I'm offended.
"You." she says simply, closing my door like she owns the place.
"What about me?" I ask without even turning around.
I hear her set the cups on the counter and her sneakers on the hardwood before I feel her arms snake around my waist and pull me close. "You." she whisperes close to my ear. "Everything about you... You're just..." she inhales and I feel her chest expand on my back, and my whole body feels like it's tingling. Everything relaxes like I have no control left; like I'm just her little marionette doll and-
"Shit!" I nearly yell. I rush over to the sink and turn the cold water on, sticking my throbbing hand under the stream as quickly as possible.
"What? What happened?" She asks, fidgetting with her hands.
I shake my head. "Nothing... I'm just stupid and wasn't paying attention, and I burnt my hand on the kettle."
The water is starting to take some of the sting away, and my hand isn't throbbing anymore. But she's silent for way too long now.
I look back and she's just standing there, with a guilty look all over her face, playing with her fingers and shifting her eyes all over, until they hit mine.
"Are you alright?" she asks, stepping only a little bit closer.
I nod, wondering why she's acting like this. I've never seen her nervous before.
"Can I help you with anything? I-I mean... can I get you anything?"
I don't know what's going on. She's acting like this was her fault I'm hurt, and like I'm hurt far worse than I really am. She looks like a scared little bird, and I don't know this side of her.
"Idina, I'm really-"
"Hold on!" she says before she runs down the hall. Maddie runs after her and I am left standing and wondering what the hell is going on.
She's never acted like this before. Granted, I've never been hurt when she was over before. It's always the same old song and dance (for lack of a better expression); she comes over, we fool around, then she leaves with one more peice of me she doesn't even know she took. I wait all weekend for her to call and tell me when she'll be here, then I ready myself and my appartment and whatever else I have time to obsess over so that it looks good for her. I let her take me in any way she chooses, and give her whatever I can, and then she puts her clothes back on and goes back home. She's never acted like she cared for me before. Shown affection? -yes. But this; the worry, or extra emotion hasn't ever show up before.
She comes back in with band aids and disinfecting balm. I can't help but smile a little.
She steps closer to me and turns the water off, taking my "injured" hand in hers. She's gentle in putting the balm on the raw, red part of my palm, keeping her eyes on it the whole time while my eyes stay on her. She looks like she'd genuinely worried... about me. Her concentration is odd, the way her brow is all furrowed in trying to put on the band aids just right without hurting me.
She finally looks up at me, wide eyed and looking a little nervous still. "Is that okay?" she asks softly.
I nod, still staring at her in awe.
She sighs and looks back down at my hand, which is still safely in hers. I feel her fingers run over the band aids at the same time her face gets a sort of pained expression I'm not familiar with. "I'm sorry, Kris." she shakes her head. "I should have been smarter than to come up behind you when I knew you had the kettle in your hand... I really should have known better than that."
"Oh, hun, it's really-"
"No." she says. It feels as though she almost can't look at me. "I don't know what I was thinking and I'm so sorry."
Her words are too strong for me to rebut. I just keep looking at her big brown eyes still focused on my hand. Something about the way she concentrates on things makes me wonder about her; about just how much space she has to think about anything she wants up there in her own little corner of her consciousness, with her character or her husband... or me sometimes.
I see little tears pooling at her lash line, daring her to blink and let them fall, but she doesn't; not for a few more moments. Then she finally does. The little beads flow gracefully down her face, sweeping over the apple of her cheek, then dipping below in the caverns of where her cheekbones create the foundation for her face... it really is such a beautiful piece of art.
Her eyes are still closed, the tiny dropletts still trying to trickle down, while she lifts my hand to her lips and kisses the wound gently with a half-quivering lip. Immediately my heart is hers all over again. Every fragment of my being is put in her hands and I'm left helpless to watch what she does with me. My will is gone and she takes all of what I am and makes it into whatever she wants. I'm just a member of the audience. She is the conductor, and it's her music we make.
She lets go of my hand and her head drops as her shoulders begin to tremble, then start racking with her sobbs.
I can't help myself, rushing towards her and throwing my arms around her. I want to protect her, and love her, and give her anything and everything she thinks she lacks... All I want to do is make her stop crying and make her act like her normal self, because seeing her crying kills me.
"Oh, Dee.. Honey, it's alright. I'm fine, I promise." I say as I rub between her shoulder blades, trying my hardest to soothe her.
"No." she says. She clings to me. I feel her fingers tightening around my blouse and her sobbs against my chest.
"'No" what? I really am fi-"
"Don't do that to me." she cuts me off, pulling away from me and looking right at me for the first time since she started crying. "You're not alright and you won't tell me, will you?"
I couldn't help my blank stare.
"Why not what?"
"Why won't you tell me? Where you ever planning on telling me?"
"TELLING YOU WHAT?"
"THAT YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH ME!"
I loose all of my balance right there and feel my eyes open wide. Tears come from their own accord and I can only hope to hold them in for seconds at a time. I refuse to be this vulnerable, in any circumstance.
But one escapes from my lash line against my best efforts and I still can't look away from the big brown eyes that seem to look through me and right at me at the same time. She takes full advantage of my sensitivity, and she doesn't even know that she's doing it. What a horrible little super power she possesses.
"No." I nearly whisper before I can slip away from her grip and carry me and my broken little secret away to the confines of my bed room. For the first time I don't care if she follows me or not. The last thing I had to hide had been stripped from me, and she has every power in the world left. All I want is to feel safe again. I had some small amount of safety in the fact she didn't know that I was completely mad over her; that all of my being would die with the loss of her presence, because I could still pretend, to myself and to her, that I could be alright if she left. That I'd be some variation of alright. But no. I can't even have the smallest amount of security... not even in a lie that I let myself create.
I sulk to the soft duvet I washed just last night, anticipating her arrival and curl my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees.
What's to come is one of two things;
1. I'll hear my front door open and close and I'll let myself cry like my world collapsed, as it might, and try my best not to give myself a heart attack wondering weather she'll ever want to see me again.
2. My bedroom door will open, and then she has all the power again. I'll be left helpless at whatever she sees fit to do with me, be it her colourful array of swear words in my general direction, or making me feel like I'm flying by just looking at me like she knows everything I'm thinking and everything I have to say that I won't ever let leave my lips. And maybe she does.
For a minute, I want her to leave. I don't want to face the kind of embarrassment and gravity of the situation I created for myself. I don't want to let her have anything more. I don't want to be in debt to her, because she's already taken everything that I am. I don't want to have to feel myself submit like I know I would.
Then I realize that if she left, I'd be losing myself all over again. She'd leave with everything, and I wouldn't have the chance to make a choice for myself; she'd be choosing for me, again. No matter the embarrassment, or gravity, or debt that I've made myself think that I owe her, I can still decide.
I can decide to tell her. To let her know things instead of GIVING her pieces of me.
As I open the door, she has her hand raised like she was about to knock. Her face is red and her eyes are still glassy, and I remember she was crying too.
I have to blink hard to try and keep my composure, but my heart is thumping like a bass drum. I don't know where to start. But I don't have to. Before I can even think of words she opens her mouth, looking like her sound is having a hard time coming out.
"Wha-wh..." she takes a deep breath and I can see her hands shaking a little. "Why would you keep that from me." she says looking at my socks.
"What do you mean?" I can't hide the fact I am somewhat angry, more at myself than at her.
She looks at me like she was just jolted by something electric, and it takes her more than a moment to find syllables. "Do you love me?"
I'm offended. What does she think I've been doing this whole time? "Do YOU love ME?" my anger is apparent now. I don't know why she's crying... I should be the one crying. I'm the one waiting at her beck and call and she uses me for sex before smiling and leaving me for next time. I am entitled to tears. Not her.
But she breaks down anyway. Her small tears turn into sobs and she falls to her knees in front of me, holding herself as I am horrified that something is seriously wrong.
I fall almost right with her, scooping her up in my arms and letting my own tears fall. I don't care if I'm angry; I do love her, with everything that I am, and it's not a variable anymore.. it's a fact.
She looks at me with her eyes pleading for something.
"I love you so much it hurts Kristi!" she whales. My heart's resting on my toe nails. "Every time I'm with you I feel like I'm pulling myself away from everything I know and escaping into a-a... a wonderful little sanctuary, where all my hopes and dreams and- and everything I never knew I really wanted exist. I feel like I can just BE with you... and I feel like if I were to up and walk away that you'd find someone to take my place as easily as if I weren't here at all." Her words are soaked in tears, and in turn I'm bawling like a two-year-old that got her cheery-o taken away. "I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do."
My whole body is shaking. We're both in the same boat, aside from one circumstance. "What about Taye?" I ask in a small voice.
She shakes her head, still holding herself like she'd fall apart if she didn't. "He doesn't even come close to comparing to you.. he's a ring on my finger and a body next to me when I fall asleep thinking about you."
With that I pull her to me, hugging her hard with my trembling arms. I can feel my face doesn't have a dry spot on it anymore and I can't help but be overwhelmed with this kind of sad, shocked, crazy joy.
She loves me. She loves me like how I've wanted to be loved this entire time.
I can't stay quiet anymore. "I love you, Dee, I do. I'm so sorry if you felt that way." I pull her lips to mine quickly, then just hold her face close, resting our foreheads together as I feel her arms encase me as well. "I've been sitting here this whole time thinking you just wanted me when it was convenient and I felt used and dictated, and I just wanted to have something to myself. I didn't want to tell you I loved you if you didn't want to hear it.. and if you wouldn't tell me the same thing back I would have died." I sneak in a laugh between sobs.
I pull away looking straight into her eyes, finally seeing what I feared wouldn't ever be there; the home in someone else that I didn't think I deserved. "I love you. Idina, that's it. I won't hide it anymore, I promise."
She laughs, that throaty wonderfulness that I'm crazy about. "You can't. You... kinda just spilled your guts."
I roll my eyes, which I'm sure are terribly red. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one." I smile genuinely.
My hand doesn't hurt anymore. The thought of any wound at all has long since gone away, and somehow I feel content with what I have.
Her face comes close to mine, not stealing a kiss like she usually does, but silently asking permission like I could even say no at this point. And I give in; like always. Without spite or contempt, or the notion that the love that I wanted so badly wasn't there for me.
Tonight she doesn't leave. She's just there.. playing with Maddie on the sofa while I make tea and order Chinese for dinner, so we can watch bad TV all by ourselves.
No secrets. No worries.
It'll be my little dog, my old quilt and the warmth of her arms around me.