Red – Part 2

Red [Part 2]

Four Seasons Hotel Downtown, Manhattan – Presidential Suite

How dared he? How was it even possible that I had managed to fall for this shit? The fucking surprise business meeting, days away from Christmas? When the only thing people had in mind was to spend time with their families – yes, even mega-managers? And rightfully so.

I should have known. And I had felt that something was wrong about all of this. I should have listened to my gut feeling.

I could not believe that Michael had somehow accomplished the feat of browbeating me into this, without me even knowing. And I had a hard time accepting that Alecia, too, was part of the whole thing. That was why she wasn’t coming back – and I knew she would not. Little coward! Leaving me here, on my own, with Michael, of all people!

My first reaction after reading his fucking message had been to crumple the paper and throw it in the garbage. Then, of course, five minutes later I had retrieved the note from the bin, smoothed it down, and read it again and again.

Slithering bastard!

I was seeing red. The last thing I needed, at that very moment, was to be caught off guard like this. Even though there was a huge part of me that wanted nothing but to see him, take his presence in, make sure that he was OK. I hadn’t met Michael at all after the trial, but what I had seen on TV had concerned me. He had looked… consumed. Shriveled, folded into himself. He had also lost so much weight. I knew for a fact that, when things spiraled out of control, Michael had problems eating just like he had problems sleeping. Throughout the whole ordeal, I had been continuously fighting against the instinct of going to him and trying to take care of him. And on those rare occasions when we had been together, he had not let me. Even though he needed it so bad. His pride – and my pride, as well – had always been a massive issue between us. The elephant in the room.

What about now? How was I supposed to react to this? Sure as hell I was not going to meet him. Michael was not going to virtually brutalize me into seeing him just because now, all of a sudden, months after our last conversation, he wanted to talk to me. And why the fuck hadn’t he just written a letter? Or called me over the phone?

Yeah, because that had gone down so well, the last time around.

I hated my internal voice. The one that would always remind me that the only reason why I had been able to tell him what I had told him, was the fact that we were not face to face. I would have never been able to bullshit the biggest bullshitter in person, I knew that much.

However, this was bad. And I was pissed as all hell.

It took me another glass of wine to calm my rattled nerves. Even before I saw the note under the door, I had felt him somehow. Because whenever Michael was nearby, I would always feel it. I would feel the air change, the atmosphere shift. This time it hadn’t been any different.

I went back into the living room. I rested my forehead against the cold glass of the window, staring absently at the spectacular skyline. Finding solace in the raw feeling of the material against my hot skin. Within seconds, memories overlapped to the present moment almost automatically and my mind went back to the last night Michael and I had spent together, before his more than deserved full acquittal.

I had gone visiting him because I hadn’t heard of him in a few days and I was starting to get worried. I had found him tipsy and upset, but his hurt was hidden behind too much whiskey that night, and also behind a very sharp tongue.

Michael wanted to fight. He needed to lash out – and I was more than willing to take the brunt of his mood.

I knew he was hurting. He had all the reasons in the world to. And I – I had to admit – was seething with irritation as well. Usually, my anger was directed to the people who had made his life a living hell, but not that night. That night he was at the very center of the hurricane. I was mad at him because he had allowed those parasites to latch onto him and exploit him. I was angry because he had chosen his yes men instead of me, when all I had ever wanted was to protect him. I knew I had been anything but perfect, but I also knew that I would have fended off those leeches. I would have never allowed them to take advantage of him.

Of course, we had ended up fighting, even though I had not dared to speak my mind freely. He didn’t need that at that moment. And then, at one point, our classic routine had resumed as smoothly as usual. And it had also been comforting somehow, because Michael – and I, too – needed something familiar to hold onto. Whatever that was. It didn’t really matter, as long as we could be close. As long as we could find that togetherness, that small fragment of solace, even for a fleeting moment.

Eventually, we had ended up fucking – well, making love, actually – against the wall. At first we hadn’t even kissed, because we were still fighting. But then he had picked me up and I had found myself messing with his pants, unbuckling his belt, as he tore my panties off. Nothing new there, either. Michael was that kind of guy. And when he was in that kind of mood, he was always full of surprises.

We had stared at each other, panting slightly, as my thighs cradled his hips and he guided himself inside of me. The feeling of having him that way had made me shiver then, and just the memory of it was enough to make me shiver now. Only after he had been entirely encased in my body, only after he had assaulted me with the passion of his love, still painfully shining beneath all that hurt and all that fear, we had kissed.

And I had told him that I loved him. Because it was the truth, and when he was standing so close to me, when he was inside of me, I could not lie to him.

So, after all, it was not random that I had decided to drop my latest, destructive bomb over the phone. Way safer, at least for me. I had the luxury not to witness his pain, and not to expose myself as the lousy liar that I was. Unless… Well, unless he knew. Michael definitely knew so much about me.

And now… well, now, this.

His little note, scribbled in his messy handwriting, seemed to say so much in just a few words. I didn’t really know what to make of them. Usually, I would have expected a long letter full of beautiful declarations of love, a list of reasons why he had made the choices that he had made, some justifications for his own decisions or… complete silence.

But not this. This time, Michael was talking about “waiting for me.” He was talking about “adapting.” But how could he be waiting and adapting to my needs when he had manipulated the situation to ambush me in this place, in a way that had acted like a complete shock to my system? Yes, of course, he was still in his suite and I was still in mine. He had also said that he had changed his initial plan to just appear on my doorstep like a pesky neighbor looking for a cup of sugar, but…

The idea of having him so close physically, and yet so far away at the same time, was unsettling to say the least. I didn’t know what to do, and at that very moment I realized that a feeling I hadn’t felt for quite some time had found a way to crawl back into me.

It was fear.

My old fears about Michael had come back in full force and molded themselves into the current situation.

The biggest concern was to see my expectations about him shattered, for the umpteenth time. That he disappointed me again – or even worse, to see that look of disappointment in his eyes. To hear him say that I had hurt him so much, which I knew. I damn knew I had hurt him in our last phone call. He didn’t need to know how I felt while uttering those words, and if he saw me now… He would know. I was so afraid that what remained of the red thread that had always kept us connected would break. My composed resignation, my sad acceptance that what we shared had indeed failed, also allowed me to keep a part of my love and affection for him intact. Hidden, but intact. However, that too would be destroyed, together with the red thread, if only we spoke and disappointed each other again. And then nothing would remain.

Which brought me to my second biggest fear. I could not see him, because that would require another monumental effort to sustain the lie I had told him months ago. I didn’t think there was much worse than lying about feelings. It was exhausting. And I was still amazed I could somehow deliver that crap over the phone. But in person? Face to face with him? Being threatened to be pulled into those dark universes that Michael’s eyes were? There wasn’t a chance in the world I could accomplish that.

It all reduced the possibilities of me and Michael meeting to zero.

Four Seasons Hotel Downtown, Manhattan – Manhattan Suite

All the exhaustion, all the fatigue that I had been feeling for such a long time, to the point that I no longer remembered not experiencing it, had left me. My body was in full alert, and it was because my wait had an actual purpose this time. The sudden, impromptu change of plan had shaken me more than I was willing to admit, because I knew I had some issues when it came to relinquish control. And in this case, instead of cornering Lisa and having her listening to me, I had put everything in her hands and let her decide what her next move would be.

Which was oh, so very difficult for a man like me. Because it involved trust. Even worse than that – this whole new scenario involved a deep, intimate level of trust toward a woman who had cut me open only a few months earlier, when I had been at my lowest low. When I was completely vulnerable and defenseless.

Sacrifice was something I thought I was used to, but maybe not in these terms. Only in terms and modalities that I could somehow control. While the current situation was unexpected and dangerous. Frankly, uncontrollable as my life had been for the past couple of years or so. It was all so very ironic.

And yet, I waited. At first just sitting in the small armchair in the hallway, near the door, listening to noises that wouldn’t come. Then standing up, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Buying time, thinking, wondering what was going on in Lisa’s mind and what had prompted me to steer so abruptly from my initial plan. I didn’t know the answer to the first conundrum, but I knew the reason for the second one: it had been mainly because of Alecia. She was an outsider, a person caught in the middle, seeing the good and the bad of what I was doing. The good core wrapped into the wrong package. When good deeds needed to be delivered in the right way instead.

And also because the old Michael would have felt self-confident enough to just knock on Lisa’s door, as if nothing had happened. But not this new Michael. I was gun-shy, and I also wanted this to be her choice.

Glancing at my watch, I noticed that about an hour had passed and nothing at all had happened. I had left my glasses in the bedroom and even with the vantage point of the peephole, my sight wasn’t as good as my hearing. I knew nobody had walked down the corridor at all. Nobody had arrived, nobody had left. Lisa had not stepped out of the Presidential Suite and only twice I had heard the elevator coming and going. It was a quiet evening… People were home. With their families, where they were supposed to be. It was almost Christmas day, after all. What the hell was I doing here? Why was I keeping Lisa here? Away from her kids, just like I was far away from mine. Of course, she could leave at any time, but words could be chains and maybe she was still thinking about what she was going to do with me.

This whole thing was bizarre. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that I had never really experienced this before. To just be waiting for her, without knowing if she would show up or not. Memories of old fights came to mind, Lisa’s words replaying in my ears like a distant echo. Lisa telling me that all she had ever wanted was for me to come home to her, and that, at one point, she never knew if and when that moment would come. Telling me how hurt she was every time I would leave because I was angry or disappointed with her. Telling me that waiting for someone without knowing if they would ever be back felt, sometimes, like a punishment.

I had scoffed at her words, back then, and told her that she was being too dramatic. That she should know that I would always, always come back to her. And now I started to think that maybe I had somehow reversed our roles: it was me who knew that she would always be there, if I ever decided to come back.

Until she wasn’t there anymore.

The knock on the door about gave me a darn heart attack, to the point that I jumped on my feet and cursed under my breath. My lungs constricted and for a second I couldn’t breathe. I threw myself toward the door and put my eye near to the peephole, squinting.

Then I cussed again.

“Goddamn it…”

I had forgotten about the food. My only focus was on Lisa and, of course, I thought she was the one standing behind the door. But she wasn’t. It was the waiter – a middle-aged guy with a thick goatee and dark hair. He smiled at me, quite shyly, when I opened the door, tipping my head at him. I read his name on the small golden plate fixed to his vest. The man’s name was Carlo.

“Sir…”

“Good evening… Please, come in. And thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Carlo wasn’t looking at me and his cheeks were red. I didn’t know if he was embarrassed, starstruck, or only an introvert. What I did know was that I needed him to leave as quickly as he had appeared, so that I could resume my inaction. My wait.

I moved away from the door as he pushed the cart inside, then I stood on the threshold, staring straight at Lisa’s door. She was so close and yet so far away.

I didn’t know what demon possessed me, as a part of me only wanted to hide – because despite my best intentions I was scared shitless. There was certainly some ambiguity in my behavior, as I found myself frozen there, perfectly visible if only she was watching me through the peephole. And maybe, well… Maybe she wasn’t.

I didn’t know how I felt about that. Somehow I hoped that she was right there, behind that wooden slab, but at the same time I was afraid that, just by seeing me, she would be more than convinced to leave. That me standing there like a fool would be the last push toward the exit. In any event, regardless of what Lisa was doing, I wanted to communicate that I was there. For her.

As a matter of fact, ordering food had been a sudden idea, right after pushing that note under Lisa’s door. Alecia’s words had somehow stuck with me and I thought that maybe Lisa was hungry. So I had called room service and ordered some hot dogs from the cart down the street and some French wine. Now, as Carlo quietly set the table for two in the spacious open space, I glanced back at him and wondered if any of this made sense. I had no idea if Lisa and I would ever have dinner again.

And yet that food embodied hope. It was about care and trust. The sad part was that I had no idea if it would end up being just that or if it would become the symbol of my failure. Of Lisa’s absence… and my loneliness.

Carlo left after thanking me for the tip and I closed the door slowly, one more time creating that further physical separating the woman I loved and myself. Sighing, I leaned my forehead against the closed door, and I started to think that maybe Lisa’s plan was easy and effective. To stay holed up in her room until I checked out, and then leave. Without giving me the chance to even see her go. I didn’t know if that had to be intended as a gift or retribution. How would I feel seeing her leave?

How would I feel knowing that she was there and never seeing her at all? As I heard the waiter’s steps move farther and farther away down the corridor, I started to think about how disappointed I had been when I had found out that it was him, knocking on my door, instead of Lisa. And I wondered – if that was the way she had felt when we were married and our crisis had started to run deep. Every time she heard the door open, at Hidden Hills, just to find out that the person entering the house wasn’t me.

Four Seasons Hotel Downtown, Manhattan – Presidential Suite

Why was I still here, again? And plastered against the door, of all places? Watching Michael through the peephole as he stood near that waiter and almost smelling those damn… hot dogs? Had Mike really ordered hot dogs? How detailed his plan to corner me in this room had been? Was he arrogant enough to believe that I would have dinner with him? He was also sweet, but that trick didn’t work anymore. Not with me. He could try the same tactic with one of his other ladies, because sure as fuck I was done.

I should have already been at the airport, at that point, but clearly I was a glutton for punishment. It was maddening how I managed to stay in that suite despite a part of me screaming to just take my stuff and throw myself into a taxi, away from this city and this fucked up situation. Away from Michael once and for all.

And yet I could not peel my eye off that darn peephole. Taking advantage of my privileged point of view, my rationale didn’t really have the time to kick in before I found myself just staring at the man standing still in the hall as if he, too, needed to assess the situation. And I took him all in.

Michael looked as handsome – stunning, really – as I remembered him to be. It didn’t matter how much I tried to forget all about his seductive aura, it never seemed to work that well anyway. He wore a black jacket, black pants and what looked like his classic, white V-neck t-shirt. Casual, and yet so elegant. He also looked as if he hadn’t shaved that morning. As usual, his eyes were dark supernovas where anyone could easily get lost, and they were staring right at my closed door. Even from across the corridor, even from behind the protective shield, I could almost smell his cologne. I noticed that he was maybe a bit more angular, but that he definitely had gained some weight back since the trial. I exhaled in relief. I just could not help it.

He looked tired. And also like a dream come true.

Then the waiter left and Michael, slowly, closed the door once again, his shoulders slumping, and disappeared from my sight. Taking a bloody chunk of me with him without even knowing.

I had to let out another deep sigh before I finally was able to push myself away from the door.

Glancing at my watch, I found out that about an hour had passed since Michael had delivered his silly message. I almost had not noticed. Time had evaporated while I was busy calling Alecia and chewing on her over the phone, and then calling my family in Los Angeles, telling them that I had missed my flight and I would be back the next day. Right… Michael had upset me to the point that I had completely forgotten I had a plane ticket ready. Too late, too late.

However, I had the financial resources to charter a flight back to L.A. immediately, if only I wanted to. I just had to resume some semblance of composure and regain some lucidity, and then I would be more than ready to go.

Meanwhile, I had spent my time just mulling over everything that had been going on. Alecia and I, eventually, had been able to patch things up. I did get her point after all. She wanted to help. And of course, she knew me well enough to understand that I wasn’t as happy as I sounded in the new life I had chosen for myself. More like going through the motions. However, her strategy had blown up in her face and she knew that too. She had apologized and at one point, without even knowing why, I had realized that I was not mad at her at all. I knew how convincing Michael could be, and I knew that she meant well.

After ending the call with Alecia, I had finally done what I had wanted to do since she had left. I had retrieved the half-empty pack of cigarettes that I kept hidden in my purse. Yes, I knew I had quit smoking, but at that very moment I needed to do something for myself. Something that made me feel rebellious and free and selfish.

I had ended up smoking my cigarette on the balcony of the suite, freezing my ass in the process because, on purpose, I also had decided not to put on my coat despite knowing that the temperature was way below the zero. I felt so heated up that, at first, the cold wind slapping me in the face had felt comforting and soothing. Then my whole body had gotten numb, and still I had stubbornly refused to walk back in and grab my coat. Fuck this shit! I could do whatever the hell I pleased! I was a thirty-seven-year-old woman and, if I decided I wanted to freeze to death on a Manhattan balcony, I would do just that! Nobody could stop me!

When I had done the same thing in the past, in our apartment at the Trump Towers, Michael had laughed at me from the living room, calling me silly for going out in my pajama in December. Then he had come out holding his jacket, wrapping it around me, surrounding me with his scent and his warmth. That – of course – when he still would take care of me. Something he had stopped doing at one point.

Well, I didn’t need him anymore. I could take care of myself just fine. I could freeze all by myself and he could keep his jacket. And his heart. And… whatever.

This place I was holed up into – this suite. I realized that it made me feel free and captive at the same time. I knew I was just buying time as much as I knew that Michael, being a man of his word, would not come knocking. He had promised, he had written it down on paper. But, that didn’t really mean much, did it. Just seeing him through the peephole had forced me to accept the truth: his presence alone was the biggest invisible obstacle for me. I wasn’t afraid he would stop me if only I tried to leave. After all, he had never run after me in the past – he was way too stubborn and proud to do that. But I knew that leaving this place meant leaving him too and I had to face the fact that, so far, I had been stalling. Finding excuses to delay the inevitable. Because as long as I stayed there, he and I would still be connected somehow.

The realization enraged me, making me see red once again. No – he was winning this battle, and I was letting him. I was very much aware I had hurt him, but one day he would be happy I had. And in the meantime… Well, in the meantime, I would not be silently bullied by him any longer. He had imposed his presence – well, non-presence – and tried to force me out of my safe zone when everything I needed to was to have my choice of leaving him reconfirmed. And even though this was a massive step for him – manipulating the environment but not really being part of it, granting me an out if I wanted it – I could not tolerate the stalling any longer.

Fuck all this. I was not Michael’s pawn anymore.

I marched back to the foyer and grabbed my coat, my purse and my trolley. If for a moment I had thought I would wait for him to leave before finally opening this door, I had now changed my mind. And he would see me walk by. No, wait: he would fucking see me catwalk by!

I was out. I was going home.

Four Seasons Hotel Downtown, Manhattan – Manhattan Suite

The sudden, unexpected noise tuned me back into the here and now. And this time, there was no mistaking what I heard as anything other than what I knew to be true. It was Lisa.

I had recognized the quality of the sound coming from the corridor while my back was still leaning against the door. I turned on a dime and glanced through the peephole once again, narrowing my eyes. And just like I imagined, there she was. As beautiful as a dream come true – and just as intangible. Just as fleeting.

I saw my ex-wife, ex-lover, ex-everything walk out of the door, dragging a little red wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Once outside the suite she turned, then slammed the door shut in quite a dramatic fashion.

I shook my head slightly. In a different situation I would have scoffed at that gesture, but this was as serious as it came. Lisa was leaving. She was wrapped in her long coat, a scarf around her neck, gloves on as if she was cold, her purse and her baggage – and she was leaving.

Time started to dilate. Seconds passed by, slowly, as if each one of them was a whole minute. As I pressed myself against the door one last time that night, I realized that this was the final goodbye and, if anything, my stupid plan had backfired big time. My note had not soothed her – it had enraged her further. It hadn’t reeled her back to me. It had been the final nail in the coffin for real – my greatest fear suddenly materialized.

It occurred to me that the old saying was true, after all. That people would always leave at their most beautiful. And Lisa was indeed gorgeous and cold, like a perfect work of art. Like a statue that I could watch, but not touch, not hold into my arms. Not anymore and never again. She was no longer mine and maybe, just maybe, never before this very moment this simple fact had been clearer for me. But there was no triumph in my realization – just the umpteenth terrible sense of loss.

The peephole only gave me minimum space to maneuver myself into this final moment. My entire world constricted and became smaller than it had ever been. So I took it all in. That last moment. All that remained of Lisa and me. The last of us. I saw her walk by and I heard the trolley being dragged. The soft, subtle noise of the wheels over the textile flooring as Lisa slowly disappeared from my view and from my world. My senses completely enraptured, for a moment I thought I could even smell her familiar scent, but maybe it was nothing but wishful thinking. Or the memory of a memory.

And then she was gone. The last thing I saw was red – her small wheeled baggage being pulled toward the elevator, at the other end of the corridor. I had to fight against the natural instinct of yanking the door open and run after her – something I had wished to do so many times in the past, and that my pride had always prevented me from doing. But not this time. The burden keeping me anchored in the elegant prison of my suite wasn’t my pride anymore. It wasn’t even my stubbornness. It was the realization that letting her go, if she was so inclined, was simply the right thing to do. It was about respecting her choice.

I owed her that much.

Even as I kept staring at the empty hall, I could still hear the faint sound of those friggin’ wheels being dragged across the carpet. No sight, no touch, no smell. Just hearing. I wondered how long it would be before the memory of the senses vanished as well.

Because the wheels of Lisa’s little trolley had reminded me of a similar scene, during our honeymoon in Paris. She and I had checked into our hotel and, I didn’t know why, but she had insisted that she wanted to take care of her small baggage personally – even though I had told her that our security detail could deal with it. We had laughed about it and then, once inside our suite, she had shown me what was inside that blue trolley. Beautiful lingerie and jewels that she had planned to wear just for me. Just to have me peel them off her. I had been such a happy husband back then, so full of hope and trust in her, myself, our future.

And now, all that remained was a lonely guy in a hotel room, two hot dogs and an unopened bottle of Cabernet Franc.

I made it right up to the elevator down the hallway. Like a champion. Like a boss. Step after step, so sure of myself. Confident. Free. Finally.

Then, when it was time for me to just reach out and push the button and call the darn elevator to the floor, I realized that my arm would not move. As if I was suddenly paralyzed.

I knew why.

It was the red thread. It was pulling at me, and it startled me. Up until that point, I had been sure that the invisible connection that had always kept me linked to Michael would be elastic enough, high-strength enough to tolerate whatever distance somehow. That it would allow me to still feel him, wherever he was, but also that it would let me leave this place.

Well… I was wrong. The red thread yanked at me and at the same time held me captive there, in front of that elevator. The freedom I craved was right in front of me and yet I could not touch it. And it was intolerable.

I needed to get rid of all this. I needed to be lighter and leave everything behind and every damn thing felt like a burden. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I could only fight fire with fire and burn down what was left of the damned thread just using the rage that had been simmering into me like a flame. For such a long time I had not allowed myself to truly get mad at Michael. I had bottled it all up. Of course, he didn’t know – he didn’t see that my rage was always doused with love and loss, when it came to him. Our fights were as incendiary as they were fleeting but, especially in the last couple of years, I had done my best to be tamer than usual, recognizing the complexity of what he was going through. And more than anything else, I had tried to store those fleeting moments Michael and I would spend together, hiding them deep inside of me.

Well… Not anymore. Even my trolley now felt too heavy to be carried around. Just like the baggage Michael and I shared. Our history. I had to let it go.

And so I dropped it, just opening my fingers. That, the red thread allowed. The suitcase fell onto the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. And just like that, I began to feel lighter.

As I marched back toward Michael’s suite, I ignored the feeling of complete elation derived from having found an excuse to stay some more. Maybe talking to him for a minute or two wasn’t the worst idea in the world after all.

I had walked back into my suite, and then I had sat down on the floor. On the threshold between the foyer and the open space, staring absently at the cart that Carlo, the waiter, had placed near the neatly-set table. Dinner for two.

Yeah. Not really. Not even for one.

The idea of eating something made me feel nauseous, but maybe later I’d be up for some wine. Just to see if it could help me pass out for a few hours and let what was left of the night go by. And then I would finally leave this place. This city. This country. Forever. I would fly back to my children and pretend nothing of this ever happened, while Lisa… well, probably she would do the same. Hell, she already was doing just that.

Everything I wanted at that very moment was to be left alone and not be bothered. I didn’t wanna see anyone. And I was way too exhausted to do anything, anyway. The fatigue that had been nowhere to be found, as long as Lisa was so close to me, was now back with a vengeance and everything hurt. My head, my back and something deep inside of me that I couldn’t really pinpoint.

That was why, when I heard someone knocking softly on the door, I barely turned my head in that direction. It was probably someone from the hotel staff, or maybe my security detail letting me know that Miss Alecia had reached her destination safe and sound. Or whatever. I had completely lost all sense of time. And all interest in everything.

Whoever was behind the door paused for a moment, waiting for me to reply or open the door. Of course, it didn’t happen. I closed my eyes, waiting for them to just go away. Wishing they would just leave me alone for once.

Then the silence was replaced by a loud banging against the door and I knew – I immediately knew it was her. Lisa was back! I recognized the passion – and also the fury – that sometimes she would bring along and I got up wincing, my messed up back screaming at me to take it easy. All the while, I felt blood rush through my veins at the speed of light.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Lisa banging her fist against the door, almost causing a scene. But not uttering a word. Me walking back into the foyer, wondering why in the world I had not heard the little wheels of her red trolley come back in my direction. I knew I had not spaced out at all, I should have heard them, I should have…

I opened the door slowly but without hesitation, knowing that I would need all my courage to face her now. And knowing that all that courage was nothing but the brother of my biggest fear. I was ready to find her glaring at me, but her eyes were downcast and her cheeks flushed. And I noticed that she didn’t have her suitcase with her. Entirely out of the blue, I wondered where she had left the thing and I also realized why I hadn’t heard her coming.

Then she reached out, pushing the palm of her hand against my chest as she entered the room. The contact acting like a shock to my system, and yet my body almost relaxing under her touch. To the point that I barely heard her when she spoke.

“Move the hell out of my way…”

I breathed out. Well… this wasn’t exactly friendly, but at least it was comforting. Because it was familiar. I wasn’t offended by her words, because they were far from indifferent and that was all that mattered.

“Thanks…”

My reply came out almost automatically. And it was genuine. I truly was grateful that she had come back. And more than everything else, I was so happy to have her there, with me. Where she had belonged for so long.

“Yeah… whatever.”

I smiled, ever so slightly. Her tone had already changed – because clearly she hadn’t expected my answer. It was as if she had entered my suite in full battle mode, all riled up and ready to fight, and now all of a sudden she didn’t know what she was doing here any longer. Detonating. Disarming.

But also detonated. Disarmed.

I observed her as she walked straight into the open space, still not looking at me. She started to pace the room, back and forth, her arms folded over her chest in a protective gesture. Always not looking at me. I just stood there, my head cocked to a side, feeling like a silly idiot. Knowing how much I loved her and trying to guess her thoughts at the same time. She wanted to be there with me and far away from me, seemed like. Well… we could deal with it. For the first time in so long, my mind felt perfectly clear and lucid.

“Lisa…”

“How dare you?”

I closed my mouth. Yeah – she wasn’t wrong, all things considered.

“I can’t believe I fell for this crap. You ambushed me! How dare you keeping me away from my kids for Christmas? Browbeating my best friend to help you concoct this shit? Deceiving me? And then the damn note! What the fuck was that, Michael? How am I supposed to react to this? You really think that’s the way it should go down? Pretending I’m gon’ have some fucking business meeting, having me stay here in this city while my children are in L.A.? And I should be with them!” She shook her head.

Still not looking at me.

“And what about yours? Where are the kids? What the hell are you doing here, anyway? What the hell is this? What the fuck?”

“I am sorry.”

It was all I could say. It was all that mattered and it was the most important thing that she had to hear from me. And it also meant so much more than that. It was about so much more than this moment – and Lisa knew it because she knew me. What she said next, pretty much confirmed it.

“What are you sorry for?”

This time she stopped and her eyes found mine. Waiting for me to grant her an escape – or hold her prisoner of this moment.

“For having put you in such a difficult situation. For having forced to you make such a hard choice. I know that it wasn’t easy.”

And I hoped, with all my heart, that she could tell that I wasn’t just referring to having ambushed her in New York when she was supposed to be elsewhere. Planning Christmas dinner with Riley and Ben… Or maybe planning her wedding to a man I had never liked. She had made some hard choices way before deciding to talk to me tonight.

I saw her swallow and all the fury I had initially seen in her eyes just… vanished. The little crease on her forehead appeared and I saw her shoulders relax. Her eyes turned so very, very sad.

“I am so, so mad at you, Michael…”

Yeah. She had gotten the message.

“I know. I understand why you are.”

I did. Finally.

She shook her head as if once again she felt confused, and all the words she had planned to say to me had evaporated.

“OK, then… You managed to drag me here. Now tell me what you needed to tell me.”

I squinted my eyes.

“I think I said so much, already. But maybe I have never listened enough. And I hope I can do it now… if you, too, want it.”

“But you never needed to listen to me, Mike. You never really needed me at all.”

Yeah… That was the point, the crux of the matter, wasn’t it. Everything was coming full circle.

“It’s true… I thought I didn’t need to listen to you. But what was always clear to me, is that I always needed you.”

She was quick enough to put her even face back in place, but for a split second I saw it. The shock and the surprise that my words had generated. And in all honesty, they had surprised me as well. I had no idea why telling her the most vulnerable truth I had kept for myself for so long had suddenly become as natural as breathing.

“And what changed, now?”

This time I knew I smiled, and I knew it never reached my eyes.

“Everything.”

My whole world had changed. And my priorities with it. Everything but…

“Everything but my feelings for you. And I wish I had the chance to love you better than I did in the past, if…” I cleared my throat, hoping my words could convey exactly what I meant to say. “…If there’s still some space left for me, in all that indifference.”

God… why was he doing this to me? Why was he pushing all the right buttons? Did he even know that he was doing just that? Did he have a plan? Did he have a speech ready? ‘Cause sure as fuck he totally looked like he was playing it by ear. Which was so unusual for Michael. I knew that my unpredictability should have made me feel proud of myself and shit, since the day when I was the one being one step ahead had finally come, but that was not at all how I felt. All of a sudden, I was deflated.

His voice was deep and silky. Just like I remembered it to be. But he seemed… guarded. And I could not blame him. After all, I was the one who had squeezed his heart into a pulp only a bunch of months earlier. Then why was he still here? Didn’t he hate me yet? Hadn’t he erased me from his memory?

Apparently not. Quite the opposite, in fact. And now… well, now, this. All of a sudden, I wish I had gulped down five glasses of wine instead of two. Because there was not a chance in the world I could be able to withstand the onslaught of those eyes on me while sober.

Darkness had fallen and only half of Michael’s face was illuminated by a floor lamp at the opposite corner of the room. The other half of his face stayed in the shadow. He just stood there, near the huge bed in the open space. Close to me, but still at a relatively safe distance, as if he wanted me to be sure I had all the space that I needed. But did I, really?

I had entered his suite ready to destroy whatever was left of us. Or so I thought. But then I had noticed that everything was so different from what I had imagined. And the more we spoke – or I spoke and he listened – the more I realized that I needed to digest all this to really understand how I felt. Even though it was slowly dawning on me. At the moment, the rapid sequence of my fight, flight, freeze automatic response made me feel mostly confused.

Michael’s words, his apparent desire to listen to me for once, even though he obviously saw me as a minefield. The softness and genuine concern in his voice almost managed to cut me open and bleed me out. I really couldn’t do this. I had not been ready to face such an unexpected level of honesty and straightforwardness. The few words he had said had never sounded mellifluous or pacifying. Not once. Only painfully authentic. The man in front of me was no longer the cold, beautiful alien I had come to know at one point in our relationship. He was vulnerable and fallible. He possessed all the irresistible beauty of a fallen god who had suddenly become a human being.

I needed a fucking moment.

Glancing around the room, I noticed the small round table set for two and the cart the waiter had brought in. I had completely forgotten about that.

“Are those hot dogs?”

Michael stepped closer and lifted the stainless steel dome.

“Well… It seemed to me that you and Alecia had been planning on eating something… So… You know…”

Swallowing and trying to look as composed as I could, I too walked over to the cart, taking one of the hot dogs that were neatly placed on the silver platter. It was still warm and I unwrapped the paper. I wasn’t hungry, but this was a good excuse as any to get away from the sudden depth of this conversation. I sat down on a plush armchair near the bed and stared at my food, noticing that Michael had made sure it only included ketchup. And no mustard. Because he knew me… And because he remembered.

I plucked the bread as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael sit down at the foot of the bed. Once again close to me, but not too much.

I chewed on the little piece of bread slowly and we stayed like that. In complete silence for a moment. Reveling in it. Also assessing the situation.

“What about that wine…”

“That’s because I kinda hoped there would be something to celebrate…”

Oh.

As I kept munching like a squirrel, more out of nervousness than anything else, he uncorked the bottle. Then he just stared at it, as if he really didn’t know what to do with that wine. This was so awkward. But also familiar. And it was precisely what I needed. I craved for some semblance of comforting normality… Trivial things that I knew, things that Michael and I had shared in the past, when everything between us was a little better than this. Less strained.

“You ain’t gonna drink it?”

“Not for now, no…” He put the bottle back on the cart and I grabbed it.

“Well, then…”

I took a long swig. Then another one, squeezing my eyes shut as the cold liquid ran down my throat. When I opened my eyes again, Michael was smiling. Not openly – but his face had relaxed, distended and his expression looked so similar to the one he used to have before his life got turned upside down like a sock. I had missed his smile so much. I didn’t even remember the last time I had seen it.

“Hey… uhm. This thing tastes funny, though…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Here…” I handed him the hot dog. “Tell me what you think…”

Sharing food didn’t exactly mean sharing my heart with him any longer. It could be done. Michael took the hot dog from my hand. His fingers touched mine and I pulled my hand back slowly. Too late. Electric ants were already running underneath my skin. He was better than me. His face stayed even. He turned the thing in his hand, observing it, then took a bite. I waited for him to stop chewing slowly.

“So?”

His dark eyes in the dimly-lit room gazed up at me and meet mine.

“It’s different than what I expected…” A pause. “…But it’s still delicious.”

Quite honestly, I didn’t know how long I would be able to ignore all the subtle double-meanings he was throwing at me with that velvety tone.

“Uhm… Here, Lise…” Blushing, he handed me a napkin, tilting his head in the direction of my blouse. I glanced down and noticed that it was full of crumbs. Sure as fuck the image I was delivering of myself at the moment was oh so suave. I must have looked just like the woman of his dreams.

“Thanks…” As I brushed the crumbs off, I recognized his efforts to keep the atmosphere relaxed. And I had to admit… It was working. “Michael, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in Oman.”

“I was, up until a few days ago. But I needed to sort some stuff out, first. So I flew back.”

“Where are the kids?”

He wrapped the paper around what was left of the food and carefully placed it back on the platter.

“Still there, with mother and Rebbie.”

“I see…”

“How are Danielle and Benjamin?”

He rested his elbows on his knees and his stance, slightly bent in my direction, once again spoke of openness and vulnerability.

“Riley and Ben are good. Thanks for asking.”

The small talk was fucking killing me.

“And what about you… What are your plans for the new year….” He blinked. “I mean, you and that fiance of yours…”

“Well, we have decided to… ah… embark on this path together and…” I cleared my throat. “…To undertake this adventure.”

The word wedding was suddenly escaping my mind. I just could not say it out loud.

“But… where to?” Michael turned to me, and this time his eyes pierced me. His voice stayed soft. “Where are you going, Lisa?”

“I don’t know yet.”

It was the truth.

“And where do you wanna go?”

I didn’t think he could have asked me a harder, and yet easier question. However, it shocked me that he had.

“For now, I think I need to go to the restroom.”

Getting up abruptly and ignoring how the room seemed to spin for a moment, I did my best to keep a composed walk as I hauled ass and took cover in the elegant bathroom of Michael’s suite.

Once inside the restroom, I was lost and found at the same time. His final question had reeled me straight into the pattern of introspection, of serious soul-searching I had tried so hard to avoid up until this moment. And the padlocks that kept the door to my heart closed were being unlocked one by one. I realized that my defenses were dangerously low and launched myself to the sink, anchoring my whole body to the cold ceramics to the point that my knuckles turned white.

I tried one last bullet of self-preservation, telling myself that this could not be happening. That I had to push him away. I could barely look at him, too afraid that his eyes would pull me in, entrap me. He had done it countless times before. I had always fallen for it. It had never worked. We had tried and tried… It had never worked.

It didn’t work at all. My gun was loaded with blanks. Maybe it had always been that way.

Hadn’t it been for my makeup, I would have definitely splashed some cold water on my face, but the last thing Michael needed was for me to walk back into the living area looking like a giant panda bear.

I avoided my reflection in the mirror as long as I could. But it was right there, inches away from me. Just like everything else that I had decided to keep invisible and unseen. I didn’t think I could do it any longer – and I raised my head to the mirror.

There I was. My eyes, huge and feverish, threw Michael’s question back at me.

Where do you want to go?

In the past, those words would have been uttered with the softest, yet most venomous voice. But not this time. Something in the way he had spoken had forced to me overcome my fear of looking at him. I had looked up and stared straight at him instead.

And what I saw almost had knocked me off my feet. This man – this man right in front of me was not the guy I thought I had spoken to over the phone. That guy was still shell-shocked, insecure, vulnerable and likely in profound need to cling onto something familiar. Not necessarily what he wanted – but likely what he needed at the moment. Or so I thought.

While right now, Michael had calmness written all over his face. And not the polite mask he would wear so often. There was a tiredness in him, yes, but also a strength, a resilience that felt new. He was older but wiser. As if he had woken up one morning, finding the fog wrapped around his mind finally gone.

Where did I wanna go?

I had no idea. The only thing I knew was that I was exactly where I wanted to be.

And before I knew what was what, tears started running down my face. I just could not help it and at this point, I didn’t even care. Didn’t I deserve some slack, after all? How long was I supposed to keep going when my tank was running on empty? This was so fucked up. This was all I wanted and nothing of what I needed. This was the scariest and most beautiful thing that could have happened at this very moment. But that was how the truth acted, didn’t it. It slashed and cut and drew blood. The truth didn’t care about the pain it could inflict, but its light was always blinding nonetheless. The only thing I could do was to accept it for what it was: a factual data.

Sinking to the floor, I allowed myself to be vulnerable and hurt for the very first time in six months. Which meant that I kept crying for as long as I saw fit. And unlike the past, Michael didn’t come knocking. If once I would have thought that he simply did not care about me hurting, now I had to acknowledge that he was just respecting my personal space. There wasn’t much else he could do to show me that he loved me, after all. Even without him saying it, now, it dawned on me that he really did care for me, more than I had ever believed before.

I had no idea how long it took me to regain some semblance of normality. When I got up again and glanced at my reflection in the mirror, I was a bit of a mess. But sure as hell I was glad this luxury hotel offered so many amenities. I totally took advantage of the vanity and makeup kit. If anything, I would look like a punk rocker chick, maximum, but at least not a panda bear.

I had heard her cry, of course. How could I not? I was paying attention to every single detail. Just being in the same room with Lisa had awakened every nerve ending and every cell inside my body. The storm of feelings I felt was hard to describe and I was surprised I was somehow able to rein over it. Happiness, gratitude, elation, excitement, love. How long had it been since I had felt those emotions? And all at once! I had no idea. I could not remember.

The moment she had stepped into my suite and I had seen her, my heart had skipped a beat. She was so beautiful – as beautiful as she had been when she had left, becoming an immortal still frame branded in my retina. The longing for her had been a fist gripping my stomach, squeezing it. My lungs felt as if there was not enough oxygen in the room. Facing her finally after so many months, I realized that I was not entirely equipped to fight off the emotional reaction that her presence unleashed inside of me.

Now, as I listened to her soft crying from the living area, I was just sad. Concerned. I knew why she was weeping… I had hurt her and healed her. I wished Lisa didn’t have to cry over me any longer. For minutes on end, I fought against my old instinct to just open the bathroom door and… Whatever. Talk to her. Hug her. Kiss her. I knew now, I had to stay exactly where I was. Exactly where I was supposed to be. There was no way around it – these were the new rules for this new thing. Whatever that was or would be.

The moment she finally got out of the restroom, she found me just standing there, near the bed, looking at her. She looked so forlorn and vulnerable, her eyes downcast, swollen and shiny. I kept my hands buried deep in my pockets and closed into fists because I was trying so very hard to keep my darn self in check.

But what I could not avoid was that single step in her direction.

“Are you OK?”

Lisa looked up and our eyes met. Hers were so, so blue. Blue, behind the curtain of red that fogged my vision. She stared at me and I saw a new set of tears sparkling. Oh, no!

“No, goddammit!” She sniffled. “I am not fucking OK.”

And so I did what felt right and what felt natural. I pulled my hands out of my pockets and opened my arms. And slowly, Lisa walked over and went straight into me, hugging me tightly, her cheek resting against my chest as she cried some more. But just a little bit.

I closed my arms around her and held her close to me, inhaling the scent of her hair, feeling her familiar frame against me, not letting her go but not squeezing her either. Once again, I wanted this to be her choice.

She sniffled again and pulled back, ever so slightly, inspecting my white shirt – now stained with her tears. And mascara.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

I had to smile.

“You were full of breadcrumbs earlier and now you messed up my shirt? What can we expect from the future?”

Lisa threw me one of her lopsided looks from below her long eyelashes. Then she laughed, dryly.

“We’re a mess.”

“Yeah, we’re a mess.”

I pulled her back into me and she swayed, almost making me lose my balance. I had to admit that my legs too felt wobbly, and it wasn’t because of the wine, since I was utterly sober. But maybe I was a little too old for this barrage of feelings.

Slowly I moved toward the bed and we sank onto it, still holding onto each other, side by side. I couldn’t see her face, because it was still hidden against my chest. I knew she needed shelter and I knew this was all so new and unexpected. But the sensory comfort granted by her physical proximity, her warmth, her scent, acted as the best painkiller in the world for me. Physical and otherwise.

I had no idea how long we stayed like that. Just cuddling. Her hand came up at one point and tangled in my hair, then moved to the side of my face as if she needed to trace my features and make sure it was really me. I had never been so present in a very long time. Turning my face, I kissed her palm and I heard her sigh, her body relaxing.

“Lisa…”

“Yes…”

“I am so tired…”

This was a luxury I only rarely allowed myself to dwell into. Admitting my exhaustion equaled to admitting my weakness. Only, at that moment I didn’t feel weak at all. Just comforted. Unburdened. Unscarred. And maybe, just maybe, I would be able to…

“Sleep, Mike. Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I exhaled a long breath.

I knew I turned and that she spooned me from behind. I heard her breathing, slow and regular, on the back of my neck. Then, without even realizing, I fell asleep.