believe you, but it’s a good try.
She drove him
to the airport the very next day. The man sitting next to her in the car had
little in common with the wreck arriving on her doorstep.
Heather was
right. Pinocchio fell to pieces, I put him back together, and now he’s leaving.
Airport
security came much too soon.
How do
people say goodbye and not cry?
He wasn’t hers
to keep, she always knew, but knowing didn’t diminish the sensation of dying.
Marc pulled her close and kissed her goodbye.
“Will you be
okay?” Reminding him of his problems might not be the best idea, but she
couldn’t keep the question in.
“I don’t know.
I’ll call you.”
She swallowed
hard as he walked through security and stopped on the other side to blow her a
kiss. As soon as he couldn’t see her anymore, she turned and ran through the large
building, into the first restroom. There, locked in a narrow stall, she finally
allowed her tears to fall.
It’s not
fair. Why aren’t I good enough?
At the same
time as she promised herself never to let him take over her life again, it was
abundantly clear she’d turn herself inside out for him the next time he called.
Returning home
held no appeal.
What would she
do with an empty apartment, now when she was used to being two?
*****
Marc sat on the
plane, toying with the in-flight entertainment system.
Hey, they
have one of my movies. Wonder if anyone here’s gonna watch it and recognize me…
Going home might not be so bad. Life has to move on, right?
Living in
Laura’s apartment had many perks, and he loved both her company and the peace
and quiet, but he couldn’t stay there forever. He had been eating and sleeping
well, and stayed sober for longer than he could remember.
I feel
great. Lawrence might be right. It’s time to return to reality and deal with
life. If I’m not ready now I’ll never be.
He looked
forward to being back in his own spacious house, to sleeping in his own large
bed, and to having a refrigerator that made ice cubes on the door.
This good cheer
lasted the entire flight and all the way to the house. Once he unlocked the
front door and entered, it changed.
Damn it’s
cold in here. Didn’t the housekeeper turn the heat on? Oh crap, I think I fired
her, or she quit, can’t remember which.
It smelled
closed-up and dusty. His footsteps echoed on the floor, and the large windows
that seemed so merry when he bought the place together with his wife scorned
him.
I hate this
place. It’s a church dedicated to loneliness, excess, and sin.
The living room
was a mess, and he grimaced when he dropped his new suitcase on the floor.
Empty bottles, cigarette butts, and an abandoned pipe told a story of a party
he couldn’t remember.
The study might
be better.
It was the one
room he furnished according to his own taste, and by far the most inviting.
A lamp blinked
eagerly on the answering machine.
Damn thing
is full. Maybe I should have checked it a couple of times.
His agent’s
voice asked where the hell he’d gone off to this time, and a number of sultry
female voices told him to call. He couldn’t put a face to even one of them. He
deleted it all and headed for the bedroom.
A multitude of
colors and flowers assaulted him, making him wince.
How could I
forget this?
Laura’s home
was decorated in soothing nuances of beige, green, and blue. Staying there for
so long had erased every memory of the atrocity that was his bedroom. There had
been a long argument over the shades of pink when they bought the house, and
Anne didn’t just win, but made it as hideous as she could stand.
Small
victories meant a lot to her. Did she stop caring about me when I stopped
caring about winning? Nothing left to fight for? And where does this goddamn
mess come from?
He stepped over
a pile of dirty clothes and stared at a plate with moldy food next to an almost
empty bottle of scotch. The mirror over the dresser was shattered and tiny
shards of glass covered
She drove him
to the airport the very next day. The man sitting next to her in the car had
little in common with the wreck arriving on her doorstep.
Heather was
right. Pinocchio fell to pieces, I put him back together, and now he’s leaving.
Airport
security came much too soon.
How do
people say goodbye and not cry?
He wasn’t hers
to keep, she always knew, but knowing didn’t diminish the sensation of dying.
Marc pulled her close and kissed her goodbye.
“Will you be
okay?” Reminding him of his problems might not be the best idea, but she
couldn’t keep the question in.
“I don’t know.
I’ll call you.”
She swallowed
hard as he walked through security and stopped on the other side to blow her a
kiss. As soon as he couldn’t see her anymore, she turned and ran through the large
building, into the first restroom. There, locked in a narrow stall, she finally
allowed her tears to fall.
It’s not
fair. Why aren’t I good enough?
At the same
time as she promised herself never to let him take over her life again, it was
abundantly clear she’d turn herself inside out for him the next time he called.
Returning home
held no appeal.
What would she
do with an empty apartment, now when she was used to being two?
*****
Marc sat on the
plane, toying with the in-flight entertainment system.
Hey, they
have one of my movies. Wonder if anyone here’s gonna watch it and recognize me…
Going home might not be so bad. Life has to move on, right?
Living in
Laura’s apartment had many perks, and he loved both her company and the peace
and quiet, but he couldn’t stay there forever. He had been eating and sleeping
well, and stayed sober for longer than he could remember.
I feel
great. Lawrence might be right. It’s time to return to reality and deal with
life. If I’m not ready now I’ll never be.
He looked
forward to being back in his own spacious house, to sleeping in his own large
bed, and to having a refrigerator that made ice cubes on the door.
This good cheer
lasted the entire flight and all the way to the house. Once he unlocked the
front door and entered, it changed.
Damn it’s
cold in here. Didn’t the housekeeper turn the heat on? Oh crap, I think I fired
her, or she quit, can’t remember which.
It smelled
closed-up and dusty. His footsteps echoed on the floor, and the large windows
that seemed so merry when he bought the place together with his wife scorned
him.
I hate this
place. It’s a church dedicated to loneliness, excess, and sin.
The living room
was a mess, and he grimaced when he dropped his new suitcase on the floor.
Empty bottles, cigarette butts, and an abandoned pipe told a story of a party
he couldn’t remember.
The study might
be better.
It was the one
room he furnished according to his own taste, and by far the most inviting.
A lamp blinked
eagerly on the answering machine.
Damn thing
is full. Maybe I should have checked it a couple of times.
His agent’s
voice asked where the hell he’d gone off to this time, and a number of sultry
female voices told him to call. He couldn’t put a face to even one of them. He
deleted it all and headed for the bedroom.
A multitude of
colors and flowers assaulted him, making him wince.
How could I
forget this?
Laura’s home
was decorated in soothing nuances of beige, green, and blue. Staying there for
so long had erased every memory of the atrocity that was his bedroom. There had
been a long argument over the shades of pink when they bought the house, and
Anne didn’t just win, but made it as hideous as she could stand.
Small
victories meant a lot to her. Did she stop caring about me when I stopped
caring about winning? Nothing left to fight for? And where does this goddamn
mess come from?
He stepped over
a pile of dirty clothes and stared at a plate with moldy food next to an almost
empty bottle of scotch. The mirror over the dresser was shattered and tiny
shards of glass covered
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