The next two weeks go very smoothly. Except for not talking to Noah, who is still angry with me. I return to work, internship and school all in one fell swoop. I talk to Clark at night when he is grading papers and usually end up falling asleep with the phone tucked in-between my shoulder and ear.
I am doing very well, all things considered. I've even made a new friend, amidst all the chaos of work and school. Jahan is a little younger than me and from a very strict Islamic background. A sweet girl, fun to be around, very opinionated. She is in the last Econ class I have to take before I can graduate. From the few discussions we have I discover that she is named for the Persian poetess, Jahan Khatun.
Because of Jahan, my interest in Persian poetry has flared and I spend a portion of my time at work collecting a small stack of books on the subject. She laughs when I mention it during a partner project. Her gray eyes peek out of her niqab, or veil, they are twinkling.
"Are you that interested in Persian poetry? Or is it me that you are interested in?" she asks, still laughing.
"Both, I suppose. I have never had someone with such an interesting name or such an interesting background. I have had a few Islamic friends, but none that wore the niqab and burqa like you. I've also never read Persian poetry. Though, working at a rare and used book store, you would think I'd come across some while I was dusting."
She is quiet for a few minutes. I begin to wonder if I've offended her somehow. I begin to chew on a hang-nail, nervously. The corners of her eyes crinkle a little. I hope that means she is smiling at me, rather than getting angry at me. She laughs, again, relieving a little of my anxiety.
We end up spending a few days reading over some of the Persian poetry I've dug up, including that of her namesake. She comes over to the store and sits with me behind the counter. We read all sorts of things I wouldn't have read before. Or, wouldn't have thought to read anyway. It is nice to have a female friend again.
I begin the last leg of my internship. Once the internship has finished, I will have a review and will officially be considered for permanent employment with the company. This and graduation are only a month or two away. All in all, I would say everything is going quite well.
I am walking to my car from work, the sign for a new club lighting the way. In big neon letters, in ever-changing colors, "Alice's Wonderland" is spelled out. From what little music I hear, as I walk by it, their tastes are eclectic. Probably all a part of the "wonderland" experience. Different songs to match different drinks and lusts. Different lights to create a different atmosphere in which to pretend to be a different person. Sounds like a place I should visit once Clark and I are over.
I wonder if I would actually take home a stranger from a strange bar just to sink further into this growing addiction. I stop under one of the blinking letters and look up. Just beyond the flashing lights I see a few stars beginning to appear. They aren't bright enough to outshine the neon writing. I'm sure there is some metaphor that I should take away from this. Some deeper meaning I'm meant to take to heart about my life and how I'm living it. Who cares for metaphors?
At home my cat meows at me furiously. He is hungry and where have I been? Not at home feeding him, most certainly not! I smile, indulgently, and fill his food bowl. It is going to be a boring, stay at home, kind of night. I have some homework I should finish for Econ, but I am not in the mood.
I grab my laptop and search random music on the net. I stumble across some bands I've never heard before. I enjoy almost everything I find. I am in a "liking" mood, I guess. I even find a Persian group that I find myself dancing to.
In the middle of a song my phone begins to chirp. I pick it up without hesitation and without looking at the caller ID.
"Hello?" I say, slightly distracted by my dinner preparations.
"Hey, Abra." I almost drop the phone at the voice. I do drop my cooking utensils, however. I quickly run over to the computer and silence the music.
"What do you want, David?" I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I'm not sure if its because his voice still does it for me or if its because I just ran to the computer.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. We ended things on a bit of a tense note last time." He doesn't sound guilty, but maybe he is. I hate the feelings welling up inside of the pool I thought I'd dammed.
"I wonder why things would've been tense, Davey. I mean, you only tried to seduce me out of my engagement ring. Which is rightfully mine, by the way, since you broke off the engagement. Have you sold it yet?" I can't keep that jagged edge out of my voice. I would rather eat a bowl full of nails right now than continue this conversation. My stomach feels like I ate the bowl too, for good measure.
"I haven't. I realized it was wrong of me to take it from you and I want to return it. Seeing as how you are still angry at me," I snort. "I didn't know if you would open the door for me to return it. Keep it, sell it, I don't care. I just don't want to keep it from you."
I hesitate. He sounds sincere. But anyone can sound sincere.
"Alice doesn't want it." I say it more like a statement than a question. I'm sure she remembers how long I waited for that ring. Does she remember how I cried when David proposed with it? Does she think about how long I waited for him to go through with his promises? I wonder if she ever feels a tremor of guilt for all the pain she has caused. Is still causing.
"Don't you think Alice deserves her own ring?" He says. I wonder, briefly, if he realizes what a mistake it was.
"Would you like to know what I think Alice deserves? I think Alice deserves as much agony as you have put me through. I think she deserves nothing less than my undying hatred and disdain. And I think you deserve no less. Bring the ring back, sell it, give it to Alice. I don't care anymore, David. If you need the money for a new ring, a better ring I'm sure since Alice deserves no less, sell it. Sell it or melt it down for scrap. If you bring it back, give it to the landlord, because I won't answer the door. And I won't answer your calls anymore."
"Don't you think you are being unreasonable, Abra?" He is getting angry. I don't care, I'm angrier.
"Unreasonable? Is it unreasonable to be angry that you have been lying to me for, God only knows, how long? Is it unreasonable to be angry that I gave you everything and you betray me like this? I don't think its unreasonable at all. If anything, I think you are being unreasonable for expecting me to not be hurt by everything that you and my 'best friend' have done to me!" I am losing what little cool I may have had and I'm starting to yell.
"Its not like you didn't know something was going on! You practically invited this by telling me you were in love with her too!"
I feel like someone just gutted me. My chin trembles and I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"I... I knew? I invited this? I told you, in confidence, that I was sexually attracted to Alice as well as to you. That I was in love with the both of you. And that justifies you going behind my back and fucking her? How was I too know what was going on? I was too busy being in love with an asshole like you and a bitch like her. I was too busy planning my wedding that I ended up having to pay for even though it didn't happen! Never, in my wildest nightmares, did I ever stop to think that maybe you were in love with someone else. Especially not my supposed best friend."
"You know, I called because I was trying to be nice and give you back your ring. I don't want to fight with you if you are going to be a bitch. I'll leave the ring with the landlord tomorrow along with the rest of my half of the rent."
"Fine. Do what you like. I could, honestly, care less." I hang up on him.
I have to scream. I have to break something. I need to get out of here. I need something, but I'm not sure what. I practically throw the food I was preparing into the fridge. I grab my keys, my purse and slip into a pair of sandals. I flip off the lights and lock the apartment door, then practically fly to my car. I need to drive. I don't care where I go, I just have to drive.
I don't know where I am headed. I'm just driving along, passing familiar landmarks after non-familiar landmarks. At first I think that I should go to Noah's. However, after our last argument, I think I had better not. Plus, what if he has "company?" I would hate to interrupt another "intimate encounter" of the groin kind. Interrupting potential sexy time is not the way to win him back over.
On the other hand, maybe he has forgiven me and doesn't know how to approach me. Like how I've been feeling recently. Or he could still be ridiculously furious. The man holds a grudge like no other. I don't even understand why he is mad at me anyway. I am damned if I do and damned if I don't with him. No, I'm not going over there. The last thing I want right now is a scene.
Maybe I should go over to Clark's? Its a little out of the way considering my current direction, but I could turn around. I look to the left and see a coffee place. I could turn around in their parking lot. Or I could turn around in the shopping mart's parking lot on my right.
I don't want to bother him. The closer to the end of the school year, the more work he has to do. I've been keeping him up late recently as well. I'm sure he wouldn't mind and would actually encourage me to come over and talk about it. He is turning into a wonderful friend, but I don't want to bother him this time.
I could go to my mother's, I suppose. I just don't want to talk to my mom about this. She doesn't know a lot of what happened with David. I suspect it would only hurt her to find out just how awful the situation has become. She really loved David, like he was her own son. I really loved David.
I come to a stop sign and just sit there, staring off into space. I guess I should really just go home and finish fixing dinner. Maybe I will call Noah and ask him to forgive me. I'll ask him to come over and have dinner with me so I won't be alone. I'll confess my entire plans, but I won't let him dissuade me. I'm drawn out of my thoughts by an angry horn blaring behind me. I quickly begin driving again, looking for a place to turn around and go back to my apartment.
I find a suitable turn-around place and begin heading back toward my place. Maybe I should call one of my sisters instead of Noah? I haven't spent nearly as much time with Sophie or Emma as I should. Though, this isn't the best time to bother them. Especially not with this. That's a terrible idea. Why did I even think of it?
I'll just stick with my plan of calling Noah. If he won't come, I'll call my older sister and see what she is doing. Hopefully, she won't be super busy with the kids and I could go over there and talk to her.
I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, phone in hand. I am gathering the courage to call. I really don't want to get lectured, but I don't want this rift to continue between my friend and me. It is ridiculous for us to fight like this.
I dial his number and wait.
"Hello?" He sounds less angry than the last time I spoke to him. That could be because he didn't check the caller ID before answering. Or it could mean he has forgiven me.
"Hey, Noah. Its Abra."
There is a small silence on the line.
"Are you there?"
"I'm here. What do need, Abe?" He sounds annoyed now, but he used my nickname so maybe there is hope.
"I was just wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner and we could talk. I know you are still mad at me, but I miss you and I just want to talk." I sound desperate, though I am very sincere.
"What are we having?" He says it almost like a sigh. I smile, though, because it means he is on the path to forgiving me.
We talk for a few minutes and then I hang up to finish preparing dinner. I turn my music back on and dance a little while I toss the salad. It isn't long before there is a knock on the door.
We hug each other as he comes in. We load our plates with salad, rosemary-garlic mashed potatoes and chicken breast. Noah brought some cheesecake cookies, a secret recipe he has been trying to perfect for a few years now. We eat in companionable silence for a little bit, just listening to my music and our teeth chewing food.
"What did you want to talk about?" He asks.
"You won't believe the gall David had today. He actually told me that I was being unreasonable!" I set my fork down, none to gently, on my plate. "He said I invited this on myself by admitting that I wanted Alice. Can you believe that?"
Noah shakes his head and takes another bite of potatoes.
"After all that he has done to you, you to still expect him to be nice and act like a gentleman."
"I can't help it." I say. "I still care about him, even though I hate his guts right now. It still throws me off balance when he acts like an ass, because he used to be so nice."
"Newsflash, honey, he was never 'nice.' He has always treated you rather poorly. You've just been wearing rose colored glasses, singing 'La Vie en Rose', for so long it shocks you when the glasses come off." He is so nonchalant about all this. I am envious. I wish I could be so cool and detached from this whole mess.
"Well those glasses have been ripped from my face and I am never putting them on again." I say, stabbing at a wayward carrot.
"You say that now, but I know you. At the next opportunity those glasses will be back in place as if they had never left."
"I'm serious, Noah. I've broken them and I'll never wear another pair. I will never be deceived by love again. Or love again, for that matter."
"Don't be dramatic," he says. "You will learn to love again. It just takes time. Luckily, you are young and have plenty of time."
"You say that like you are so much older than me." I laugh.
It feels good to be here with Noah. If only I could keep it like this moment for a little while. I need to tell him the truth about what I'm doing, but I don't want to. It keeps coming back to my not wanting to fight with him. It will hurt him. My sexual and emotional self-destruction is going to take a toll. Not only on myself, but on those around me. I am self aware enough to know this, but too selfish to care. I am the one hurting, why should I care about anyone else's pain?
"What's the matter, Abe? You look very serious." I look up at him and manage a small smile. He has put down his fork and he looks concerned.
"I'm just thinking. I'm fine. Insane, but fine."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes and no. I want to tell you something, but I know it is only going to make you angry at me and it will hurt you. I don't want to make you angry or hurt you." I feel a little guilty for even hinting at it.
"Don't tell me. Right now I don't want to know. I just want to enjoy your company. I am tired of being mad at you. You were right, you are an adult and I need to let you be. Don't tell me now, I think I already know anyway. So let's pretend that I don't and make believe that everything is okay."
"Now who is wearing rose colored glasses?" I say, smiling.
"I am. Damn proud of it too." He smiles. A beautiful and sad smile. I hate that I am the cause of that sadness even though I have no intentions of stopping it.
We eat the rest of our dinner in silence. We sneak pieces of chicken to the cat when we think the other isn't looking. We gorge ourselves on Noah's cheesecake cookies and play a couple rounds of "Clue." We make silly faces at each other and laugh until we cry. We have a great time.
Eventually we snuggle up on the couch, my head resting in his lap and his hand tangled in my hair, and watch a movie. He falls asleep half way through and I follow suit.
I dream that everything up until this point has been a vivid nightmare. I wake, in the dream, to what reality should've been like. A perfect wedding day. A beautiful honeymoon. A few years of wedded bliss and a baby on the way. I dream of David and I growing old, more in love with each other than when we married.
I wake up crying, knowing that dreams can sometimes tell a vicious lie.
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