Mister West Page 12

  Where else would you have gone, Ivy?

  “Fine, we’ll talk about it in the morning,” he says. He disappears inside the bedroom, and I hear his body collapse into the mattress.

  I walk to the front door and shut it. Then I stand there for minutes and minutes on end. For a while I don’t think about anything. I’m just in some sort of void, floating outside of my body, watching myself and waiting for something to happen. Like maybe the anger will slowly inch its way inside. Maybe the smell will get to me and I’ll cuss and slam something and drown for hours in my rage. Maybe I’ll internally ravage Derek while he’s sleeping, telling myself how much I hate him.

  But I don’t do any of it. My will has died. And it slowly dawns on me why that is.

  I’ve stopped caring.

  I really am done with Derek – have been done for so long, I can’t even remember the moment I realized it – and I don’t hate him either. This chapter is closing, and it frightens me – god, it frightens me – but excites me all at once.

  It doesn’t take long before his snores sound out. I shut the door to the bedroom to muffle it out and move back to the couch, to my safe little space at night. I make my bed and change into my comfy clothes. I turn on the television and settle on a random channel. I raise the volume so the snoring can’t be heard, and then I lay back down. I grab my phone to check the time. It’s two in the morning.

  Like clockwork, I check my Facebook. To my surprise, there’s a message sitting in my inbox.

  A.W.: I’m sorry about tonight, Ivy.

  That’s all he says, but it’s enough.

  Enough for me to know he’s not shutting me out forever.

  *

  “Am I losing you already?” Derek asks the next day.

  I’m nursing a latte I picked up from my favorite coffee shop nearby and sipping it on the balcony chair. He’s standing by the screen door in just his boxers, looking like hangover roadkill.

  “Good morning to you too,” I mutter quietly, staring straight ahead.

  “Ivy,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I didn’t think I’d stay back so long. I should have come back sooner.”

  I don’t respond.

  He steps out now and takes a seat next to me on the plastic chair. The balcony is tiny and just barely fits us, but it has a lovely view of the city streets. This is what we’re paying an arm and a leg for. Some days, like today, it’s worth it.

  Derek looks at me needily. “Am I losing you?” he asks again.

  This time I look at him, feeling my chest sink at the sadness in his eyes.

  “I’m not sure you had me,” I admit, feeling a tremble in my voice. “I think I came back too soon, Derek. My head’s not in a good place.”

  “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing, Derek –”

  “I’ll stop drinking.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “I will.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

  I don’t reply. I’m tired of this conversation. We’ve had it too many times now.

  “I’m sorry,” he says in that way that usually gets through to me. “I’m so sorry.”

  But this time I don’t feel it cutting through the wall I’ve erected.

  “Derek,” I finally say, focusing my gaze on him, “I think…”

  “Think what?”

  I need to remind him of the conversation we had last night. I need to let him know nothing has changed. I think…

  I think this needs to end. Now.

  Say it, Ivy. Say it.

  I swallow hard. “This isn’t working.”

  He just looks at me for so long, not even blinking. My words don’t sink into him. I can see the flat-out denial in his eyes.

  “Derek,” I continue slowly, “we need to consider…going our separate ways forever.”

  “No,” he retorts, looking panicked. “No, Ivy. I lost you when you went to your mother’s. I won’t lose you again…”

  And that’s how the day begins. With him rattling on about how much I mean to him. He doesn’t let up either. I carry the coffee back into the apartment and he follows, and he won’t leave it alone.

  “This isn’t healthy for us, Derek,” I try telling him. “It’s been like this for too long now, we don’t even know what normal feels like anymore.”

  “It will get better, Ivy. It will.”

  “I don’t want this anymore, Derek. You’re not listening. This needs to end.”

  “No, Ivy.”

  “Please, listen to me. We have to move on. We have to heal apart.”

  “No.”

  “Derek, we’re done. We’ve been done a lot longer than you realize. You’re right, I came back and it’s been the elephant in the room –”

  “You came back to give us another try.”

  “No, Derek, that isn’t why I came back. We continued like nothing happened, like this separation was going to fizzle out and things were going to be okay again, but everything changed. I’ve been in denial. Until now. I’m ready to admit it out loud.”

  He’s not listening.

  “I’ll let you have the apartment,” I try telling him. “I’ll even pay until you find someone to rent with, or someone who’ll take over the lease –”

  “No, fuck no. You’re not going anywhere, Ivy. I won’t let you. You’re mine. I’m yours. We made an oath when we got married we would see this to the end –”

  “We were eighteen when we got married, we didn’t know anything!”

  “People get married young all the time and make it.”

  “Not us.”

  “No, you don’t mean it. You’re being impulsive.”

  I go to my underwear drawer and open it. I fish around for the divorce application I’ve hidden in there for months now. I pull it out and hand it to him. He takes it, brows coming together in confusion.

  “I’m ready,” I tell him. “I’ve been ready for a long time now, Derek.”

  He stares at the papers and begins to read. But just as quickly, he lets them go. They flutter to the ground and he’s shaking his head.

  “Stop this, Ivy,” he tells me. “Stop.”

  My shoulders slump. I feel defeated already. Like I’m boxed in and there’s no way out, no way of making him understand this is over.

  He spends the whole day at my side, pleading, telling me I’m wrong. When I don’t change my tune, he gets loud. I want to run but I have nowhere to go. Every room I disappear in, he follows. When I’m in the bathroom, he’s slamming it, begging me to open up.

  This is how it always is.

  He will push and push and push until I give up. Until I tell him what he wants to hear.

  But I don’t do it this time. I stand my ground. Through shaky breaths, I tell him through the door we’re over, that our separation never ended. I don’t even remember the last time we felt like a couple. He’s holding onto the old us, and he needs to confront what we’ve become. I try explaining that to him, but he’s too panicked to listen.

  When I finally step out of the bathroom a while later – after he’s stopped banging on it and the apartment is quiet – I find my room a bombsite. He’s hidden the suitcases, he’s hidden my wallet, he is making sure I don’t escape.

  I find him sitting on the bed, shirtless, a hand over his face. At one point, he’d gathered the divorce application from off the floor and he’s holding it in one hand now, looking down at it. He looks broken. There’s an open bottle of beer at his feet. He’s polished most of it off.

  Despite everything, I feel bad.

  I feel like no one ever warned me the hardest part of leaving was watching the person you shared such a huge part of your life with fall apart. No one said you’d stay longer to prolong their pain. It’s a train wreck you keep holding off because you’re scared of being responsible for their anguish.

  I’m so sad.

  I go to him and sit next to him. I stare at hi
m, at the boy I loved for eight years. I hold his hand and rest my head against his bare shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to him, feeling a tear fall. “I’m sorry, Derek.”

  I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

  He doesn’t answer.

  This is the beginning of the end.

  I need to be strong. I can’t waver. I’ve finally done it. I've squashed that hope in him. It's done.

  Please, Ivy, be strong.

  The Messenger

  Ivy: The weather is shit, isn’t it?

  A.W.: Are we really doing this?

  Ivy: What?

  A.W.: We’re really talking about the weather? Is this what friends do?

  Ivy: God, how did it feel when you typed that word? F-r-i-e-n-d-s.

  A.W.: It felt unlike me.

  Ivy: What would you rather us talk about?

  A.W.: What are you wearing?

  Ivy: Denim shorts and a grey tee.

  A.W.: Show me.

  Picture sent.

  A.W.: Jesus, Ivy. How am I supposed to concentrate now?

  Ivy: What are you wearing?

  A.W.: Suit.

  Ivy: Show me.

  A.W.: Afraid I can’t, beauty. I’m in a meeting.

  Ivy: Then you shouldn’t be on your phone.

  A.W.: But I’ve got your picture to stare at now. Your eyes are glowing. You’ve just bitten your bottom lip and licked it (you did that a lot when we talked). Your cheeks are red. Are you blushing at our conversation?

  Ivy: Yes, I’m blushing.

  A.W.: Tell me why.

  Ivy: I feel alive when I talk to you. Like I have something to look forward to right now. Is that crazy?

  A.W.: No. I feel it too.

  Ivy: What do you think it is?

  A.W.: You want to fuck me.

  Ivy: Aidan…

  A.W.: I can’t help it. There’s something about you, Ivy.

  Ivy: Endorphins, Aidan. I’m your latest fun.

  A.W.: It isn’t that.

  One hour later…

  A.W.: Would you have kissed me back?

  Two hours later…

  Ivy: Yes.

  Ivy: That’s why I’m counting on you to be the strong one.

  Not a minute later…

  A.W.: You’re counting on the wrong person, Ivy.

  Twelve

  Aidan

  “You look like you’re going to kill someone,” Steven says, taking a bite out of his breakfast sandwich as he strolls into the office.

  “You know better than to come into my office eating that shit,” I retort.

  “I’m hungry, man.”

  I don’t respond. I’m standing by the window, staring down at the streets. Apathy is creeping in like never before, and there is nothing to keep it at bay.

  Unless I talk to a particular woman.

  And I don’t want to fucking do that.

  “What’s the plan today?” I ask, and my voice is hollow, dead. The motivation to be here is gone. I feel my soul rotting in this fucking place.

  Steven takes a seat on the sofa beside the desk. He doesn’t feel it. “Statutory Report for 9am.”

  “Thought we did that already.”

  “No, Aidan, that was done last month. You’re thinking of the board meeting a few days ago.”

  “They’re all the fucking same.”

  Steven ignores that. He ignores a lot these days. “After the meeting, we have to issue a statement regarding last week’s privacy breach.”

  “What was that about?”

  Steven stills. “Aidan, we’ve just been hit with our biggest cyberattack to date. Our entire main database was compromised. Millions of people had to change their passwords. We talked about this. You…you were there when it happened.”

  Was I?

  I don’t remember shit. Eighty percent of this job consists of meetings. I stopped giving a fuck months ago.

  “It didn’t breach the financials, did it?” I wonder. Because I’d have to seriously give a fuck then.

  “No evidence of unauthorized credit or financial breach. Those are stored in a separate format and encrypted with –”

  “I didn’t ask for your life story, Steven,” I cut in. “Just a no next time will suffice.”

  Steven’s face darkens. He clenches his teeth, throwing his sandwich down on the illogically expensive mahogany coffee table. Who the fuck approved that purchase?

  “What’s going on with you, man? You’re out of it. One second you’re complacent – which is a healthy change, I’ll admit – and the next you’re breathing down our necks like a fucking dragon.”

  What was going on with me?

  Where do I start?

  I don’t give a fuck about our company anymore. The appeal was gone the second it became a growing international commodity. And when that happened, I immersed myself in the money. In fast cars and beautiful women. But not even that lasted long before I craved another challenge. The obsession to rebuild a company from scratch emerged, and it had me traveling across the continent, listening to pitches, looking over businesses and investments, and still, nothing filled that hole in me.

  Now I’m pissed. Because I did find myself a distraction, but it wasn’t a company, or an investment opportunity, or even something quick and easy like a sexy car.

  It was a woman.

  Not plural, either.

  Woman.

  It’s maddening. It’s lunacy. It’s exhausted my every thought. My fingers tingle to touch the phone. I need more of her. I need to know what she’s thinking, what she’s doing – anything from her would temporarily satiate this endless appetite I’ve developed, and it’s confusing the shit out of me.

  I want to tell Steven, but he’d laugh or give me the long talk about settling down. He’s always been that way, though, since high school. The preachy type. I fucking hate the preachy type. But he’s happier than I am. He’s been with one woman and one woman only, and I’ve never understood that. I never cared to even try. This asshole has had the answer to happiness in life this entire time, and I’ve been too blind and arrogant to see it.

  For years, my life’s been about work, about money, about fucking the next pair of long legs. And while a small part of me envies Steven’s settled down life to one woman, I know that isn’t me. I wouldn’t know how to switch off. The idea of being vulnerable, of letting down these walls, scares the living fuck out of me.

  The logical part of me understands I’m obsessing over Ivy because I can’t have her. And because she gives zero fucks about my wealth. She didn’t even probe me once about my work. It made me feel more than just the man everyone sees.

  Is this what Steven feels?

  The deeper part of me feels like there is something about Ivy that fits into me like a puzzle piece I didn’t know I was missing. It’s the deeper part I don’t like to shine a lot of light on, even though it’s always at the back of my mind. I know this deeper part is the reason I am thinking about this tempting goddess almost every minute of my day.

  I finally look at Steven, still waiting for me to tell him what the fuck has been wrong with me lately.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I start to deny.

  “Bullshit. You used to be an asshole all the time.”

  “You want me to go back to being an asshole all the time, Steven?”

  “I want consistency, man. Because this level of assholery feels a lot like the old you, and I need to know you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” I tell him quickly.

  “Are you still…clean?”

  I blink hard, annoyed. “I’m fucking clean, Steven.”

  He’s exasperated. “Then what is it?”

  A few seconds pass by. He stares at me, waiting. I look back, searching for words.

  “I want to sell the company,” I find myself saying.

  “What? Why?” he asks, bewildered. He has no itch. He’s happy to stay. They’re always so fucking happy to stay. “We’re still climbing,
Aidan.”

  “We’ve done everything we needed to do, Steven. I want to do something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know yet. I need to figure that out.”

  He nods, looking like he finally understands, until he says, “I think you’re going through a crisis. This is an episode. It isn’t real, Aidan. Whatever’s been happening to you, you’ll get over it. It’s just a phase.”

  I shake my head, annoyed. “Steven, the company went public a year ago. We lost all our control. What’s the point of sitting on a board if you can’t have a say? The shareholders get to run the show. I’m tired of that. I’m not looking at dollars and cents. We have an opportunity to sell and move on to greater things.”

  “That’s why you keep skipping out, isn’t it? All those trips you keep taking. You’re looking at other ventures.” When I don’t answer, he sighs. “So, that’s it then? You’re going to leave me here to do this alone?”

  “Do it with me.”

  “No, I can’t do that. I found something stable, Aidan. And Jenna needs stability. We want to start a family.”

  “Cash out and you’ll have all the time in the world for that.”

  Steven’s quiet. He’s thinking about it, I can tell. But he’s at war with the unknown. After all, we worked years for this success, and now that we have it, he isn’t letting it go.

  “We only made it big because our platform is different than all the others and we struck at this before everyone else beat us to it,” he says, quietly, looking at me sadly. “It was luck. How do we do that again? We’ll fail.”

  “Fail and fail and fail,” I acknowledge, wholeheartedly. “That’s the beauty of it, Steven. We get to take risks and hope they pay off.”

  “That’s playing with our own money, and I want to leave something big behind for my family when I’m not here. How many successful entrepreneurs have we seen lose everything opening businesses or investing in garbage run-of-the-mill ventures? One second they’re hot, the next they’re plummeting because most of it is junk flavors of the week. These companies burn out. Hot one second, cold the next.” He shakes his head, frustrated. “Aidan, I’m not like you. I don’t treat life like it’s this fleeting adventure. I can’t be cruel to a person or fuck a girl like it means nothing. What you keep chasing is short lasting. I’m in for the long haul. I don’t think you have the capacity to understand that, not until…”