Arsen: A Broken Love Story
Page 6
My dad smiles for the first time tonight. Shaking hands with Ben, he wishes us a good night. I’m about to open the door, when Ben stops me.
“No, let me get the door for you. That was the deal, remember?” he says softly.
“Oh, yes.”
Smiling, he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers tightly together. It’s the first time we do. Holding hands is a big deal. The last time I held hands with a guy was with my ex two years ago.
Does this mean that Ben likes me? Duh, girl. Why do you think the guy brought you cupcakes to your house? To watch you eat them? Of course he likes you. It shows he put some thought into tonight. Count your blessings and open your legs.
Slutty Cathy always shows up at the most inopportune moments.
I barely register leaving the house and making our way to his car. I’m now sitting on the cool leather seat and thinking about holding hands and slutty voices, when I sense Ben’s eyes on me. The way he’s staring at me…
Suddenly the car feels hot, too hot. I watch Ben following the movement of my legs as I rub them together.
“Screw it. I can’t wait any longer,” Ben says.
He grabs the back of my neck forcefully as he pulls me on top of him. I knew he was strong by looking at the muscles on his body, but not like this. As I straddle him, our lips touch for the second time and it’s like the air is being sucked out of me slowly, deliciously, tenderly. His lips, soft and sweet, kiss me as if mine are made out of glass. He’s gentle at first, but when our tongues touch fire explodes inside of me, inside of him, inside of both of us.
His kiss isn’t sweet anymore. It isn’t tender. It turns into an aggressive, rough, hungry, hard, teeth clashing, tongue against tongue kind of kiss.
And, I love it. Oh, how I love it.
When our lips part, we’re left panting and trying to catch our breath. As we look at each other in the little space we have allowed to come between our bodies, I notice the way our hands are tangled in each other’s hair, fisting handfuls of it, pulling our faces closer, clutching as if we are the other’s life support.
I can’t believe it. I can’t. This just doesn’t happen in real life.
“Fuck, Cathy…just like that you make me lose control, huh?”
Gulping, and trying to untangle the thoughts coming from two different directions in my body, inside my head and inside my panties, all I can manage to do is shake my head and grin.
Ben laughs, plants a quick kiss on my lips and moves me off his lap. Once I’m back in my seat, he rests his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry about that kiss. I was planning to take my time tonight…go slow, you know…but when you came down wearing that sexy dress, showing those killer legs, and looking so f**king sexy and beautiful…I kind of wanted to jump you right then and there, even with your dad watching us, but I figured he wouldn’t let me take his daughter out again. And after that kiss,” pausing, he grabs my chin so I’m facing him, “Look at me, Cathy…I want to see your eyes.” Applying slight pressure to my chin, “I need to see you again.”
Blushing, I’m so glad that the car is dark.
“But the date hasn’t really begun…how do you know you will want to see me again if we haven’t even started the first one?” My voice is small. I’m afraid because I so want his words to be true. I like him. I like him a lot.
Letting go of my knee, he grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, planting a kiss inside my palm. “I just do. I’m sure of a few things in life…that no matter what you do, death will always catch up to you. You’ve got to work hard to pay for life, party harder to enjoy life, and love hardest to live life, and now, you.”
“Oh.”
DING-DING-DING.
Have I just won the lotto?
When we are in Serendipity, a group of drop dead gorgeous girls approach our table to ask him if he is Benjamin Stanwood, the ex-quarterback for the University of Florida. Blushing a little, Ben says he was, making the girls squeal and ask him for his autograph. As the girls flirt with him, he reaches for my hand. They all look at me as if they’re wondering how the hell a plain Jane has ended up with a hunk. I’ve been wondering the same thing the entire night.
Ben clears his throat, “Sorry, girls. Here are your autographs. Thank you for coming over and saying hello. It’s really cool of you, but I’m trying to impress my girl…and so far it isn’t working.”
The girls turn to look at me, anger and disbelief written all over their faces. I have never been the kind of girl to gloat over others when something right goes my way, but in this moment some hidden attitude-ridden part of me wants to stand up, give them my best Queens bad girl f**k you look, snapping my fingers in their plastic faces and say, “Suck it, Bitches.”
But I don’t.
Instead, I grip Ben’s hand harder. His eyes meet mine and what I see in them elates me.
The rest of the date passes in a blur. I don’t remember much except for the softness in his eyes when he looked at me, his sweet but flirtatious smile every time his hands “accidentally” grazed my butt or boobs, the very pleased and smug expression on his face after every kiss we shared left me dazed and unfocused. But the thing that I remember the most is the way Ben never let go of my hand, almost as if he owns it or like it belongs there.
After he drops me off and kisses the hell out of me, I make my way to my bedroom, walking like a living zombie. The crazy beating of my heart has to be proof that I am still alive, right?
Lying in bed, I can’t remember getting out of my clothes and into my pajamas or removing the little make up I had left from the hot and heavy make out session we’d just had outside my house in his car. My lips feel numb, yet tingly like they are on fire. They are so hot to the touch; it’s like I’m burning from the inside out.
My br**sts are sore from his hands, my ni**les still hard, and I’m swollen and raw in between my legs from his fingers, but it feels good.
So very good.
My body is humming with excitement because it’s alive again. It has been so long.
Staring and looking at the shadows playing on my ceiling, I try to will my eyes to close, but I can’t. The images of him touching me, whispering what he wants to do to me, what he is trying hard to refrain himself from doing…the feel of his erection in my hand…
I’m still in a daze when I hear my phone ringing. Answering without looking at the caller I.D., I smile when I hear his voice.
“Hi, Cathy.”
“Hi.”
“I miss you already,” he says huskily.
“I...I am…me too.”
“You’re what?”
“Hmm…not sure I should say it.” I whisper.
“Damn, Cathy. I’m still in a f**king daze. I have been since we kissed back in my car when I first picked you up. Haven’t been able to shake it off. And I don’t want to.”
I hear him sucking in his breath, then releasing it. “I can’t close my eyes because when I do all I see is you. When I breathe, all I smell is you. And I would much rather have the real deal next to me than a dream. When can I see you again? I promise not to jump you like a starved man...but man, Cathy, do you have any idea of the things you do to me? Of the things I want to do to you? What I almost did to you in my car?”
“Yes.”
“You do? Well, shit.”
“Shhh…let me talk. I know how you’re feeling because I feel the same way. I’m feeling every single thing you just mentioned…just more,” I say.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I’ll be damned.”
Silence.
“Cathy?” Ben asks.
“Yes?”
“I like you. I really like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“Fuck, I want to…no, scratch that, I need to see you again.”
“Me, too.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And the day after tomorrow, and the day after that?”
“Yes, and yes.”
“Cathy…”
“Ben…”
“Night, beautiful girl. And thank you for going out with me.”
“Night, Ben. And thank you for asking me.”
“Do we really have to hang up?”
“Yes! Night,” I say, giggling.
Closing my eyes, I grab my pillow and scream into it as I let myself believe that this magic night wasn’t a dream.
I can still remember being able to feel the smile on my swollen lips as I begin to fall into a deep sleep.“Oh my God.”
I stare at the stick with the plus sign once more. Can this be happening again? Can this be true?
“Oh my God.”
My vision starts to blur as I keep staring at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands. Hope and fear wrestle against each other to be the strongest and loudest emotion growing inside my chest. Hope wins.
It always does.
After carefully putting the pregnancy test on the sink, my hands, shaking now, automatically go to my flat stomach. There is life growing inside of me once more. I don’t want to feel hope; I don’t want my mind to inevitably wander to our attic where there are pink and blue things still wrapped in gift boxes, unopened. I don’t want to start wishing for things that may never happen. Gosh, but it is so easy to.
Feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks, I stick my tongue out to taste them, savor each and every single one of them. They are happy tears for once, and they taste so sweet on my tongue. Moving away from the porcelain tub, I run out of the bathroom in search of Ben.
As I make my way to Ben’s office, I notice how bright the corridors look this morning. The rays of sun hit the windowpanes at just the right angle that as I’m walking by, rainbows of color are reflected on my skin. Funny, it has been a long time since I’ve noticed how pretty our home is. There are so many pictures of Ben and me, eleven years’ worth of a life together to be exact, scattered throughout the walls. Hard to believe time has flown by this fast.
Sometimes, when passing by, I notice how young and happy we looked, so in love. Our smiles remind me of how promising we thought our life together would be. The look in the eyes of that young girl reminds me of a time when looking at Ben made me believe that the answers to life’s secrets could be found within him. That he was my answer to everything. Sadly, I’ve come to discover that such a notion is not only false but impossible. No one has all the answers to solve the big puzzle that life is, and it is even less likely that another person can offer them to you.
The girl in those pictures doesn’t look like she is plagued by uncertainty, though. If anything, the woman and the man posing in the pictures look like they believe everything is possible and within reach. I haven’t seen those feelings when I look at my reflection in the mirror for a very long time.
Nearing his office, closing in the physical distance between us, a thought is planting its thick roots in my head and heart, spreading hope within me. Call it wishful thinking, but I hope that the small life inside of me is able to bridge the emotional space growing between us. An emotional gap so wide, that lately it feels almost insurmountable to close.
It is the source of our growing distance after all.
Well, mine mostly.
I find a frowning Ben when I walk in his office. One of the stems of his glasses is in his mouth while he looks down at the newspaper sitting on his desk in front of him. His dark, wavy hair looks messy, probably from pulling at it while lost in thought. Wearing an old gray t-shirt with the word Columbia written across his chest and faded jeans, he looks just as big and handsome as the day I met him. The years haven’t done anything to alter his starting quarterback body; if anything, he looks more masculine and seasoned with age. I hope our baby has his dark looks and not my boring blonde ones.
When he hears me enter his office, the frown disappears immediately and
a gorgeous smile appears, showing his perfect white teeth. He reminds me of a pirate sometimes when he smiles at me that way, with his tanned skin, dark hair, and glimmer in his eyes.
As soon as he notices the tears on my face, he drops his glasses on the desk, stands up from his leather chair and makes his way towards me. His hands go to my shoulders.
“Cathy, baby, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
Looking up, the tears that were slowly flowing before begin to blur my vision as they fall in a torrent so fast and so strong that I can’t do anything but feel them inundate my face as they overflow my eyes. I can’t do anything but move between his arms and wrap him in a hug, tight and fierce. Yes. There is hope for us, after all. Our love is enough.
It is enough.
Ben wraps his arms around me, returning my embrace just as strongly and intensely, lowers his face close to mine and whispers, “Babe, talk to me. You’re scaring me. What’s the matter? Tell me so I can fix it. Shit, Babe…please.”
I let go of his body, lifting my hands to cradle his face in between them. He truly looks concerned. Fear is written in the way he seems to be clenching his teeth, emphasizing how strong his jaw is. The frown that had disappeared when he heard me coming in is back, and he looks as if he is scowling. The half angry and half worried expression on his face makes a stupid watery giggle escape my mouth. The situation is growing more comical by the minute.
“Baby…no.” Reaching out to smooth the temples of his lovely face with my fingers, I erase the scowl away. “No, baby. Nothing is the matter. Actually, everything is…oh my God. Ben, baby, I’m pregnant again.”
Ben’s body becomes statue-still. The arms that are wrapped so tightly around my waist go slack. He is looking at me as if I am a ghost, not blinking and barely breathing, he seems to be in a state of shock. I’m about to shake him, to make him react, when I see the first glimmer of tears flood his dark eyes.
“No, let me get the door for you. That was the deal, remember?” he says softly.
“Oh, yes.”
Smiling, he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers tightly together. It’s the first time we do. Holding hands is a big deal. The last time I held hands with a guy was with my ex two years ago.
Does this mean that Ben likes me? Duh, girl. Why do you think the guy brought you cupcakes to your house? To watch you eat them? Of course he likes you. It shows he put some thought into tonight. Count your blessings and open your legs.
Slutty Cathy always shows up at the most inopportune moments.
I barely register leaving the house and making our way to his car. I’m now sitting on the cool leather seat and thinking about holding hands and slutty voices, when I sense Ben’s eyes on me. The way he’s staring at me…
Suddenly the car feels hot, too hot. I watch Ben following the movement of my legs as I rub them together.
“Screw it. I can’t wait any longer,” Ben says.
He grabs the back of my neck forcefully as he pulls me on top of him. I knew he was strong by looking at the muscles on his body, but not like this. As I straddle him, our lips touch for the second time and it’s like the air is being sucked out of me slowly, deliciously, tenderly. His lips, soft and sweet, kiss me as if mine are made out of glass. He’s gentle at first, but when our tongues touch fire explodes inside of me, inside of him, inside of both of us.
His kiss isn’t sweet anymore. It isn’t tender. It turns into an aggressive, rough, hungry, hard, teeth clashing, tongue against tongue kind of kiss.
And, I love it. Oh, how I love it.
When our lips part, we’re left panting and trying to catch our breath. As we look at each other in the little space we have allowed to come between our bodies, I notice the way our hands are tangled in each other’s hair, fisting handfuls of it, pulling our faces closer, clutching as if we are the other’s life support.
I can’t believe it. I can’t. This just doesn’t happen in real life.
“Fuck, Cathy…just like that you make me lose control, huh?”
Gulping, and trying to untangle the thoughts coming from two different directions in my body, inside my head and inside my panties, all I can manage to do is shake my head and grin.
Ben laughs, plants a quick kiss on my lips and moves me off his lap. Once I’m back in my seat, he rests his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry about that kiss. I was planning to take my time tonight…go slow, you know…but when you came down wearing that sexy dress, showing those killer legs, and looking so f**king sexy and beautiful…I kind of wanted to jump you right then and there, even with your dad watching us, but I figured he wouldn’t let me take his daughter out again. And after that kiss,” pausing, he grabs my chin so I’m facing him, “Look at me, Cathy…I want to see your eyes.” Applying slight pressure to my chin, “I need to see you again.”
Blushing, I’m so glad that the car is dark.
“But the date hasn’t really begun…how do you know you will want to see me again if we haven’t even started the first one?” My voice is small. I’m afraid because I so want his words to be true. I like him. I like him a lot.
Letting go of my knee, he grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, planting a kiss inside my palm. “I just do. I’m sure of a few things in life…that no matter what you do, death will always catch up to you. You’ve got to work hard to pay for life, party harder to enjoy life, and love hardest to live life, and now, you.”
“Oh.”
DING-DING-DING.
Have I just won the lotto?
When we are in Serendipity, a group of drop dead gorgeous girls approach our table to ask him if he is Benjamin Stanwood, the ex-quarterback for the University of Florida. Blushing a little, Ben says he was, making the girls squeal and ask him for his autograph. As the girls flirt with him, he reaches for my hand. They all look at me as if they’re wondering how the hell a plain Jane has ended up with a hunk. I’ve been wondering the same thing the entire night.
Ben clears his throat, “Sorry, girls. Here are your autographs. Thank you for coming over and saying hello. It’s really cool of you, but I’m trying to impress my girl…and so far it isn’t working.”
The girls turn to look at me, anger and disbelief written all over their faces. I have never been the kind of girl to gloat over others when something right goes my way, but in this moment some hidden attitude-ridden part of me wants to stand up, give them my best Queens bad girl f**k you look, snapping my fingers in their plastic faces and say, “Suck it, Bitches.”
But I don’t.
Instead, I grip Ben’s hand harder. His eyes meet mine and what I see in them elates me.
The rest of the date passes in a blur. I don’t remember much except for the softness in his eyes when he looked at me, his sweet but flirtatious smile every time his hands “accidentally” grazed my butt or boobs, the very pleased and smug expression on his face after every kiss we shared left me dazed and unfocused. But the thing that I remember the most is the way Ben never let go of my hand, almost as if he owns it or like it belongs there.
After he drops me off and kisses the hell out of me, I make my way to my bedroom, walking like a living zombie. The crazy beating of my heart has to be proof that I am still alive, right?
Lying in bed, I can’t remember getting out of my clothes and into my pajamas or removing the little make up I had left from the hot and heavy make out session we’d just had outside my house in his car. My lips feel numb, yet tingly like they are on fire. They are so hot to the touch; it’s like I’m burning from the inside out.
My br**sts are sore from his hands, my ni**les still hard, and I’m swollen and raw in between my legs from his fingers, but it feels good.
So very good.
My body is humming with excitement because it’s alive again. It has been so long.
Staring and looking at the shadows playing on my ceiling, I try to will my eyes to close, but I can’t. The images of him touching me, whispering what he wants to do to me, what he is trying hard to refrain himself from doing…the feel of his erection in my hand…
I’m still in a daze when I hear my phone ringing. Answering without looking at the caller I.D., I smile when I hear his voice.
“Hi, Cathy.”
“Hi.”
“I miss you already,” he says huskily.
“I...I am…me too.”
“You’re what?”
“Hmm…not sure I should say it.” I whisper.
“Damn, Cathy. I’m still in a f**king daze. I have been since we kissed back in my car when I first picked you up. Haven’t been able to shake it off. And I don’t want to.”
I hear him sucking in his breath, then releasing it. “I can’t close my eyes because when I do all I see is you. When I breathe, all I smell is you. And I would much rather have the real deal next to me than a dream. When can I see you again? I promise not to jump you like a starved man...but man, Cathy, do you have any idea of the things you do to me? Of the things I want to do to you? What I almost did to you in my car?”
“Yes.”
“You do? Well, shit.”
“Shhh…let me talk. I know how you’re feeling because I feel the same way. I’m feeling every single thing you just mentioned…just more,” I say.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I’ll be damned.”
Silence.
“Cathy?” Ben asks.
“Yes?”
“I like you. I really like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“Fuck, I want to…no, scratch that, I need to see you again.”
“Me, too.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And the day after tomorrow, and the day after that?”
“Yes, and yes.”
“Cathy…”
“Ben…”
“Night, beautiful girl. And thank you for going out with me.”
“Night, Ben. And thank you for asking me.”
“Do we really have to hang up?”
“Yes! Night,” I say, giggling.
Closing my eyes, I grab my pillow and scream into it as I let myself believe that this magic night wasn’t a dream.
I can still remember being able to feel the smile on my swollen lips as I begin to fall into a deep sleep.“Oh my God.”
I stare at the stick with the plus sign once more. Can this be happening again? Can this be true?
“Oh my God.”
My vision starts to blur as I keep staring at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands. Hope and fear wrestle against each other to be the strongest and loudest emotion growing inside my chest. Hope wins.
It always does.
After carefully putting the pregnancy test on the sink, my hands, shaking now, automatically go to my flat stomach. There is life growing inside of me once more. I don’t want to feel hope; I don’t want my mind to inevitably wander to our attic where there are pink and blue things still wrapped in gift boxes, unopened. I don’t want to start wishing for things that may never happen. Gosh, but it is so easy to.
Feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks, I stick my tongue out to taste them, savor each and every single one of them. They are happy tears for once, and they taste so sweet on my tongue. Moving away from the porcelain tub, I run out of the bathroom in search of Ben.
As I make my way to Ben’s office, I notice how bright the corridors look this morning. The rays of sun hit the windowpanes at just the right angle that as I’m walking by, rainbows of color are reflected on my skin. Funny, it has been a long time since I’ve noticed how pretty our home is. There are so many pictures of Ben and me, eleven years’ worth of a life together to be exact, scattered throughout the walls. Hard to believe time has flown by this fast.
Sometimes, when passing by, I notice how young and happy we looked, so in love. Our smiles remind me of how promising we thought our life together would be. The look in the eyes of that young girl reminds me of a time when looking at Ben made me believe that the answers to life’s secrets could be found within him. That he was my answer to everything. Sadly, I’ve come to discover that such a notion is not only false but impossible. No one has all the answers to solve the big puzzle that life is, and it is even less likely that another person can offer them to you.
The girl in those pictures doesn’t look like she is plagued by uncertainty, though. If anything, the woman and the man posing in the pictures look like they believe everything is possible and within reach. I haven’t seen those feelings when I look at my reflection in the mirror for a very long time.
Nearing his office, closing in the physical distance between us, a thought is planting its thick roots in my head and heart, spreading hope within me. Call it wishful thinking, but I hope that the small life inside of me is able to bridge the emotional space growing between us. An emotional gap so wide, that lately it feels almost insurmountable to close.
It is the source of our growing distance after all.
Well, mine mostly.
I find a frowning Ben when I walk in his office. One of the stems of his glasses is in his mouth while he looks down at the newspaper sitting on his desk in front of him. His dark, wavy hair looks messy, probably from pulling at it while lost in thought. Wearing an old gray t-shirt with the word Columbia written across his chest and faded jeans, he looks just as big and handsome as the day I met him. The years haven’t done anything to alter his starting quarterback body; if anything, he looks more masculine and seasoned with age. I hope our baby has his dark looks and not my boring blonde ones.
When he hears me enter his office, the frown disappears immediately and
a gorgeous smile appears, showing his perfect white teeth. He reminds me of a pirate sometimes when he smiles at me that way, with his tanned skin, dark hair, and glimmer in his eyes.
As soon as he notices the tears on my face, he drops his glasses on the desk, stands up from his leather chair and makes his way towards me. His hands go to my shoulders.
“Cathy, baby, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
Looking up, the tears that were slowly flowing before begin to blur my vision as they fall in a torrent so fast and so strong that I can’t do anything but feel them inundate my face as they overflow my eyes. I can’t do anything but move between his arms and wrap him in a hug, tight and fierce. Yes. There is hope for us, after all. Our love is enough.
It is enough.
Ben wraps his arms around me, returning my embrace just as strongly and intensely, lowers his face close to mine and whispers, “Babe, talk to me. You’re scaring me. What’s the matter? Tell me so I can fix it. Shit, Babe…please.”
I let go of his body, lifting my hands to cradle his face in between them. He truly looks concerned. Fear is written in the way he seems to be clenching his teeth, emphasizing how strong his jaw is. The frown that had disappeared when he heard me coming in is back, and he looks as if he is scowling. The half angry and half worried expression on his face makes a stupid watery giggle escape my mouth. The situation is growing more comical by the minute.
“Baby…no.” Reaching out to smooth the temples of his lovely face with my fingers, I erase the scowl away. “No, baby. Nothing is the matter. Actually, everything is…oh my God. Ben, baby, I’m pregnant again.”
Ben’s body becomes statue-still. The arms that are wrapped so tightly around my waist go slack. He is looking at me as if I am a ghost, not blinking and barely breathing, he seems to be in a state of shock. I’m about to shake him, to make him react, when I see the first glimmer of tears flood his dark eyes.
