He moves his hand back up and around my waist. I wait for him to get pissy and say something rude. Instead, he tells me, “It’s alright. I just wanted to connect with you again. I miss touching your body. You’re so pretty to me, Ivy.”
Pretty. Always that word. Never anything more. Maybe I’m clutching for straws, but a change in adjectives wouldn’t kill.
Stop being so negative. You’re so, so, negative, Ivy!
I don’t have to wait a very long time before he gets up and crashes in his bed. When he’s out, I feel a strange ache in my chest. It’s been months since I’ve felt anything wrapped in his arms. That warm fuzzy feeling has faded into oblivion. And like a baby, I sob quietly. I lied to myself earlier. I am a crier. From time to time it builds up and I can't hold it in. My body shakes as I hold my breath and try so hard not to make a sound. I keep asking myself why this has happened. What I could have done differently. I don’t know why I’m even here with him to begin with. We were stupid kids and we made stupid decisions.
If Mom hadn’t forced me out of the house and to the airport, I wouldn’t have come. I didn’t want to come back to him. I wanted us to end. And I know he deserves to hear that, to know the truth of just how far he’s pushed me away, but I can’t stand the thought of hurting him more. It’s easier to do it from afar. They can’t find you from afar. They can’t break down and plead for you when they don’t know where you are.
I wish I was far away right now. Not just from Derek, per se. But from myself as well. I want to run from who I was and not have that reminder.
I want to start anew.
I used to be like Derek once upon a time. I used to always think of the now. Always blinded by the allure of “fun in the moment” and uncaring of the consequences that followed. And now I’m trapped in a marriage I fell into when I was eighteen years old.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
I breathe quietly, calming down. My eyes that have long adjusted to the darkness wander to the coffee table where my phone sits. I grab it and turn it on and wait a minute for it to boot up every app. I check my messages, all the while shaking with adrenaline.
When I see the two messages from Aidan, my chest soars and constricts all at once.
A.W.: You know why I’ve been thinking about you every day? You were so impressionable on that plane. You were the spider of death, waiting to strike, and I ambled into your web determined and uncaring of the consequences. Forgive me for being so forward, I know you’re keeping me at a distance for a reason, and I know I should respect that, but you never told me you weren’t available all the hours I sat next to you. I would have backed away immediately had I known otherwise. Instead, I fell into your allure and had already mapped out your body for the taking. I wanted you desperately. I still heartily do.
A.W.: For your sake, Ivy, I’ll do my best to be “friendly”, and not because I need a friend, but because you intrigue me. Until your situation changes, consider yourself safe. For now.
I don’t know how to feel about that. Too much to take in. I turn the phone off and set it back on the nightstand. I’ll think about it tomorrow. Regardless, I won’t respond. And I have a feeling he doesn’t expect me to.
Eight
Aidan
“How are you going with that vain Instagram stick I saw you with?” my grandmother asks.
I smirk at the phone as I unbutton my dress shirt. “She invited me to Monaco.”
I hear her “ugh” under her breath and I can imagine her shaking her head in loathing. “And will you be going?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I broke it off too.”
“Even better. I really wish you’d steer clear of spoiled girls like her. They smell money from a mile away, and besides, I can’t picture you standing next to a woman with a poodle in her purse and a hand wrapped around her pearl necklace.”
“Depends what kind of pearl necklace it is.”
She gasps. “Aidan! That is too vulgar.”
I chuckle. “Alright, I apologize.”
“I thought I beat that language out of you.”
“You did.” For the most part. “So let’s get to the point, Ruth. What are you calling me for?”
“Alex.”
I sigh long and slow. “What has Alex done this time?”
“You know the way he is. I was hoping you’d have a talk with him and smoothen him out a bit. He’s running off the rails.”
“That’s what guys do. They need to lose their way to find themselves again.”
“This isn’t like you running away from home at thirteen because your mother died and we had nothing, Aidan. This is Alex being an idiot twenty-one-year-old who thinks getting drunk and not coming home until four in the morning is appropriate. I found condoms in his underwear drawer this morning. I didn’t even know he was sexually active.”
I cringe and peel my shirt off. “That’s not really something we like to inform you about, Ruth. He’s also entitled to his privacy.”
“What if he knocks up a girl?”
“That’s what the condoms are for.”
“Aidan, please stop defending him.”
“I’m not.”
She’s distressed and I feel bad for it, but my brother isn’t a teenager anymore. He’s an adult now. I can’t scold him when my earlier years were less than innocent. He’d never buy my words, and as much as I want to lead him down the path of biblical righteousness, he needs to make his own mistakes.
“Look,” I tell her, "He's been in Ottawa
