I watch Ben as hope is reborn within him. Fear and indecision disappear, clearing the path for our future together.
“There was never a choice for us, was there?” he says as a smile grows on his beautiful face, accentuating the thickness of his lips and the sharp edge of his jaw.
I shake my head and smile as happiness bursts inside me, bringing me to life once more.
“No.”
“Come here,” he says, flashing the same cocky smile I fell in love with the first time I saw him.
About to reach for him with Nadia in my hand, I let myself think of that boy with the aqua-blue fire in his eyes one last time. Silently, I thank him because he’s the reason why I’m standing in front of Ben. He saved me from myself, and in a roundabout way he gave me Ben back. Without his help, and whatever it was we had, I don’t think I would be here. I would probably be dead. I love him and always will because his inner fire brought me back to life. Yes, he was the fire that burned my marriage down to ashes, but in those ashes, hope was reborn.
He healed me.
Arsen.Missing you is a sickness I can’t cure, and it’s f**king killing me.
Fuck.
It happened again.
I’m looking at a lavender ceiling instead of the familiar grey of my bedroom.
The pillow feels too fluffy to be mine, and it smells like f**king fruit.
Why the hell would I want to f**k someone who smells like fruit? It reminds me of my nana.
I feel nauseous, so I close my eyes and try to remember how I got here in the first place.
What the f**k did I do last night?
I open my eyes, and turn my head to look at who I did last night.
Figures...
Lying next to me is a na**d blonde haired woman that looks exactly the same as Catherine. I guess if I can’t have the real thing, I might as well screw the next best thing, right?
I’m sick.
Disgusted with myself, I get up, get dressed, and leave the blonde chick’s apartment without saying goodbye. It’s not like I want to see her ever again. I never do. And it works for me.
Once I step outside from the building, I look around and try to figure out where the hell I am. I glance at the street corner and read the green sign that lets me know I’m on Fifth Avenue. Well, isn’t this just f**king peachy? I’m in no f**king mood to ride a cab or the subway all the way to SoHo at this moment.
With a pounding head, I decide to go in search of the closest deli. I need to take something to make my headache go away. As I start walking, I realize that I’ve been here before. The buildings look eerily familiar and the more I stare at them, the more a memory I’ve tried to erase many times before keeps popping in my head. But it’s not until I’m standing across the street from the same f**king coffee shop and see her that the images of those two days come crashing down on me.
I had to let her go.
When she told me that she was pregnant, I freaked out. It was f**king shitty of me, but I didn’t know what to think or how to react. I wasn’t even sure the kid was mine and it scared the hell out of me. How were we supposed to raise a child together when everything was so new? For all I knew, she could still dump my ass and go back to her husband once she got bored with me. The situation was so f**king messed up, but I didn’t care since Catherine was with me and not with that asshole. I just wanted to love her for as long as I had her because that was all that mattered to me. Our time together.
I saw her, I wanted her, so I took her, even if in the process I destroyed a good marriage. I saw the sadness and vulnerability in her eyes the moment I got off the jet, but it wasn’t until much later that the complex of wanting to be her f**king savior was born.
All I wanted to do was fix her, save her.
Just before she told me she was pregnant, I was planning on taking her to Paris for a weekend. And maybe once we got there, go f**king romantic like in the movies and shit, and finally tell her how much I loved her.
Somehow she became my reason to be, to exist.
I loved her so damn much.
But when she came back from seeing her gynecologist and told me she was pregnant, reality came knocking on my door.
Just like Ben had.
A couple hours before Cathy came back, Ben was at my apartment telling me that the only reason she was with me was because of her last miscarriage, which sent her spinning out of control. He told me that things were getting better between them before it happened, that they loved each other, that she was never mine to begin with. And yes, I thought he was being a pussy.
Then Ben revealed something that she f**king failed to mention before. She was with me because he had left her. It had never been her. She wasn’t the one to end it. But like I told him before he left my apartment, I didn’t give a rat’s ass as long as she was with me.
And she was.
It wasn’t until after she told me she was pregnant, and I saw the way her eyes were glowing with such hope and tears, that I knew.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t take it away from them, even if it didn’t work out. Ben and Cathy deserved that baby.
I didn’t.
So I did what I always do best.
I broke her heart.
I told her I didn’t love her.
I told her there had been no promises.
I was lying.
When she came back to me…after Ben had left her…when she told me it was over between them…I became hers.
That night, our first together, as I held her while she slept in my arms, I thought that life couldn’t get any more perfect. I finally had her and I was not going to share her anymore.
She was finally mine.
My own.
I did not expect her to come back from the Doctor’s office with a dazed look.
I did not expect to see hope and anguish warring in her eyes.
I did not expect her to say, “I’m pregnant.”
And when she didn’t even know for sure if I was the father, it f**king pissed me off. I wanted to go to that mother fucker and beat the shit out of him because it meant that I had shared her. It meant he had touched her.
And, it f**king hurt.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
And, then I remembered the way Ben looked when he came to my place. Fucking destroyed.
I had to do it.
I kicked her out.
The moment I did, I realized what a big mistake I made. As I laid in my cold bed that night, not being able to taste her in the air I breathed, I decided I didn’t care about Ben. If there was a chance that the baby could be mine, I was going to take it. I loved Catherine, my Dimples…I knew I was going to love the baby, whether it was mine or not. And in case the pregnancy came to nothing, I wanted to be there for her.
The next day, I went to look for her at Amy’s apartment. I saw her walking out of the building, and instead of stopping her and begging her to forgive me right in the middle of the street, I decided to follow her. I needed to go over my speech one last time. As I was standing across the street from that coffee shop stalling for time, I saw him walk into the same shop as Catherine. I had just left her not even twenty-four hours ago, and she was already asking Ben back.
I turned around and walked away from her, from any hope of ever seeing her again. She was back where she needed to be all along, even if it killed me for a second time in my life. The only difference was that this time, I didn’t think I would be able to survive because I was already dead.
It’s been almost five years since that day.
Fucking hell…
It hurts.
It still hurts.
As I stand on the same corner, transfixed and feeling my f**king soul shatter all over again, I watch the familiar blonde hair and dimples on the face of a woman I haven’t been able to forget. Ben is giving a young girl a piggyback ride and has an arm thrown around my girl’s shoulder. They are laughing and looking like a perfect family.
I feel pain.
Mind-numbing pain.
My body is shutting down.
Catherine still has the power to take my f**king breath away after all this time.
Please turn around and look at me.
Please turn around.
Please.
Please.
I beg, pray, chant, and wish for Catherine to do so. I need to see the eyes that have haunted me for so long, the ones that stole my soul and never let it go, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stares at Ben with all the love that should have been mine.
I despise him.
With her arm wrapped around his waist, I watch as he leans down and pauses for a moment before kissing her on the mouth. Closing her eyes, she stands on her tiptoes to receive his kiss. He’s watching her intensely. Shit, he f**king loves her. I don’t want to witness anymore of that bullshit, so I study the girl instead. She has blonde hair and looks just like her mother. So beautiful.
The little girl looks up and her gaze lands on me. She looks me straight in the eye and a sense of recognition, of having found myself again, settles in my heart.
We look at each other.
She’s mine.
That little girl is mine.
I know it.
My body begins to move automatically. I need to go to her. To my girls.
As I begin to walk towards them, Catherine says something to Ben which prompts him to rest his hand on her stomach, and both of them smile at each other with so much f**king love. Straining my eyes, I notice for the first time the small bump growing inside Catherine’s body.
With the fight drained out of me, I watch them for a couple more soul shattering minutes being a happy family. I know that I did the right thing that day long ago. I did the right thing by letting her go, just as I’m about to do for a second time.
And it’s tearing me apart once again.
They got their happy ending. That’s the only reason why I can make myself walk away, make myself say goodbye to my girls, even though it kills me that I’m not the reason behind their smiles.
And I will never be.
Fuck.
I can’t.
I turn around and run, run, run, run, run, run…
Once I’m in the middle of Central Park, feeling breathless, I lean against a tree. I need to calm down. Get myself together. I look down at my hands and notice the way they are shaking so f**king bad. I fist them closed and wrap them under my armpits. It doesn’t help. As a matter of fact, it feels as if an earthquake is rolling through my entire body, leaving utter devastation behind.I close my eyes and tilt my head back, going over everything that just happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It hurts so damn much.
He has both my girls.
He has the family that should have f**king been mine.
I f**king hate him.
I hate her.
I hate her for making me fall in love with her.
I hate her for leaving me.
I hate myself for lying to her.
I hate myself because I still f**king love her.
And I hate myself because when I saw that little girl…
I just knew.
She is mine, yet she’s not.
Just like her mother.
I love them both.
And I don’t have them.
He has them.
He has them both.
And I never will.
And it will remain that way even if I have to make sure I die in the process.
Even if it destroys what little is left of me.
He deserves them.
And I don’t.
I don’t.
Fuck.
Fuck
Fuck.