I woke up early, not having slept that well; probably due to the fact that I had spent the night in my own guestroom, on a bed I was not all that familiar with. Come to think of it, I had never actually spent an entire night on that bed.
My thoughts quickly turned to the young brat sleeping on my bed, in my room, wearing my clothes. As usual, whenever I had thought of Keith in the last six months, I had a burning desire to see him. I made my way across the hall and into my bedroom, then sat down gently on the bed and silently watched the sleeping form.
Keith – once the love of my life. Still the love of my life, if I wanted to be honest with myself.
I saw Keith stir. I waited patiently for him to wake, watching his expression. He must have sensed my presence, because his eyes flickered open and stared up at the ceiling for a long time. A little sigh escaped him as a pink tip of tongue slipped out and licked his dry lips. They quivered slightly. He drew another slow breath, not moving, while a single tear slowly slid down his cheek. Another tear followed the first and I saw him clamp his mouth down.
I stretched out a hand and touched him lightly on his shoulder. An impersonal touch, just to let him know I was there. He swallowed.
‘How are you feeling, Keith?’ I asked softly.
He closed his eyes when he heard my voice. His lips pursed and trembled, as if fighting against more tears. I could not stand to see his agony. I moved closer to him and pulled him to me. With a sigh of anguish, he turned into my chest and clung to me, beginning to cry softly.
I stroked him gently, letting him cry it out and pushing all thoughts away except how good it felt to be holding him again. We lay in that position for a long time – long enough for Keith to stop crying and for me to gain control of my emotions.
‘Come on, baby,’ I finally said. ‘We need to get up now.’
‘Dusty?’
‘Yes, sweetheart?
His breath caught at his throat. ‘Am I still that?’ Keith asked in a small voice.
I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Always.’ I whispered in his ear.
‘No …’ he whispered.
‘Always!’ I said again, more firmly.
Nervously, he turned and looked me in the eyes. ‘Why did you bring me here, Dusty?’
‘Why not?’ Our eyes locked.
He stared at me, struggling to find words. ‘I … I … ‘
‘Hush …’ I said soothingly. ‘Later. Come on now. You need to get up and go get a shower. You’ll feel much better then. We’ll have breakfast, and then we can talk. All right?’
He allowed me to pull him out of bed and into the shower. I put a new toothbrush down on the counter, and then closed the door after turning the shower on. In the brightness of day, it suddenly became a little awkward to have Keith in my house, much less my bathroom.
While Keith was showering, I used the guest bathroom and took my own shower there. Keith was finished by the time I went back to the bedroom. I pointed to the chest of drawers and told him to find some clothes to wear, while I disappeared into my bathroom to brush my teeth and shave.
Feeling very much more able to face the day, I looked at Keith over the breakfast table. He had dark rings under his eyes, his hair was too long, he looked tired and his hands shook when he held his coffee cup. But his mouth still held a hint of his old sweetness and his eyes, when he did look at me, was as smolderingly sexy as ever.
I had decided to cook eggs and bacon, which was not unusual for a Saturday morning when we had been together. What Keith did not know was that I had not cooked breakfast since he left. It just did not seem worth the effort, plus it felt horribly hollow going through the motions. Most Saturdays, I headed to the office and survived on coffee till lunch.
He sat silently in his old chair, head down, playing with his eggs.
‘Come on – they are not that bad!’ I said, an attempt at lightening the mood.
He gave me a watery smile. ‘Thanks. For breakfast. A..and … and for last night.’
I looked over at him, and he flushed. ‘Finish your breakfast, Ketih. Then I think we need to talk.’
He looked up at me, his eyes clouding over. ‘N..no. Please, I just want to go …’ He started to get up.
I held up a finger. ‘Sit.’
Apparently, he still responded to me. He sank back into his chair immediately.
‘Eat.’
He picked up his fork and began to get the eggs into his mouth. I refilled both our coffee mugs while he forced the food down. When his plate was empty, I collected the dishes and began to wash up. I could hear Keith get up and I held my breath. I forced myself to focus on the dishes, and let go a little breath as I heard him begin wiping off the table and stove … just like how he used to do on weekends before life got so complicated.
It did not take long to get the kitchen straightened up. Keith was studying me anxiously when I turned off the tap and wiped my hands.
‘I s…should be going now,’ he stammered nervously.
‘No – we need to talk about last night. Let’s go to the study.’
Keith hesitated, but I strode past him confidently towards the study, and he followed. I held the door for him as he slipped in, then closed it firmly. He looked extremely uneasy as I gestured for him to take a seat at the sofa.
I sat down opposite him on a straight back chair. He would not meet my gaze.
‘Does that hurt much?’ I indicated his bruised cheek.
He put a hand up, and touched it tenderly, a little surprised at my question as if he had forgotten about it. ‘Yes,’ he said softly.
‘You know, last night could have gone horribly wrong?’ I kept my voice mild and neutral.
‘Please Dusty, let’s not do this. I would like to leave now.’
But he did not move or make any attempt to get up, so I continued. ‘What were you on last night, Keith?’
‘W..what?’
‘Last night - what drugs were you on?’ I spoke a little louder as he seemed to have trouble getting it together.
‘I … I wasn’t on anything!’ he said almost angrily, glaring at the carpet.
‘Don’t you lie to me, Keith,’ I said evenly. ‘I know what I know. And I know you and I know what you are like when you are riding high. What were you doing with that crowd anyway?’
‘They … they are just people I know.’
‘You let any ‘people you know’ maw their hands all over you?’ Try as I might, I could not stop myself from blurting that out. I only hoped the sarcasm hid the hurt in my tone and camouflaged the insane jealousy I felt.
He flushed angrily. ‘Get off my back!’
I swallowed and took a moment to get myself under control. This discussion was turning out to be more difficult than I thought. But what did I think? That I could just sit Keith down and get him to admit how wrong he had been to leave me and fall gratefully back into my arms? That I could just turn the clock back and claim him as my ‘brat’?
Sighing, I said as calmly as I could. ‘You were way over your head last night. The situation was out of control. Is that how you have been spending your time? Partying? Drinking? Getting high? My God Keith! I thought we got you straightened out a long time ago. How the hell did you get mixed up in this again? How long has this been going on, huh?’ Keith hated being scolded and my tone was dangerously close to that.
‘Has ‘what’ been going on?’ He sounded distinctly annoyed at being chastised.
‘You know what I mean, Keith.’
My patience amazed myself at times – but only when it came to dealing with Keith. I was not known for my tolerance in my family or at the office. I would have blistered any of my staff for being belligerent with me and I would definitely have given my brothers hell if they had tried that tone on me. Yet with Keith, I ‘understood’ too easily why and when he was churlish or temperamental or simply being difficult. Not that I had not tried to correct that attitude, but I used much more patience dealing with him than I otherwise would with others. Call that blind love, but so long as I could love Keith, I could be blind happily.
Thus I was able to say without too much heat, ‘Have you any idea what a stupid situation you placed yourself in last night? You could have been seriously hurt – or were you so far gone you do not even remember last night?’
I saw him shrink back into the sofa. Was that fear I saw in his eyes? I hoped so. Fear had been the main weapon I had used to cure him of his bad habits the first time round. Not fear of me, but fear of losing direction in his life, of being a disappointment, of failure.
‘It has nothing to do with you, Dusty.’ Keith shot back at me, his voice totally belying the look in his eyes. He looked white and scared. Typical of my Keith; fighting tooth and nail even in a losing battle, and too proud to admit it.
I shook my head at him, very much like talking to a naughty child. ‘This has to stop. Before something bad happens that would really hurt you.’
‘What do you care?’ he spat out.
I gazed at him in shock. ‘Of course I care!’
‘Yeah?’ he snorted. ‘Sure!’
‘Keith,’ I said quietly. ‘Look at me. I still do care, very much. OK?’
He jumped up, his face working furiously. ‘Don’t say that! Don’t you say that! If you REALLY cared, then why did you stop coming over? You never call any more …’ his voice broke.
‘Oh Keith!’ I sighed, torn between sadness and frustration. I closed my eyes. He was right. I had stopped calling him and checking up on him. But he was wrong that I had stopped caring. It had just become too painful at some point to continue seeing Keith.
I began slowly. ‘I do care, Keith. I am sorry I stopped coming by, but you told me you wanted breathing space – and I let you have it because I thought you needed it. You insisted on moving out, remember?’
He looked at me reproachfully. I was stunned at his expression. Did he think that I had forsaken him? Oh God, at that moment, I felt that I had failed him utterly. ‘I should never have allowed you to….’ Suddenly the words got stuck in my throat.
He looked at me uncertainly. ‘ … Leave you?’ he asked, eyes wide.
My eyes searched his face, looking for a sign to continue. ‘I should never … have … let you move out,’ I finished the sentence slowly. I looked deep into his eyes. ‘Why did you really, Keith?’
He bit his lip and swallowed. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
He looked away.
‘You said you wanted to take a break from our relationship. Are you done with your break?’
‘I don’t know Dusty! Stop asking me!’
I drew a deep breath and asked, ‘Do you still love me, Keith?’
He looked back at me, breathing hard. His lips moved but no sound came. His eyes were over bright.
I leaned forward, drawing his eyes to mine simply by force of will. And then I threw all caution to the wind. All those things I had wanted to say to him before but which never were voiced, rose up in me. My voice was deep and serious and shaking just a trifle.
‘I still love you, Keith. I have never let you go in my heart. I want you with me again. I want you to come back to me. Do you hear me? You’ve had your break. Enough!’
And I had had enough – enough of missing him. I wanted him back. I said firmly, ‘Its time you came back to me.’
I waited – hardly breathing.
His lips tightened and he slowly straightened up. ‘No!’ It was an anguished whisper.
That hit me in the stomach.
All those months I had given him the freedom he craved, allowing him to decide when he was ready to resume our relationship because I had truly believed that he would come around eventually. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I had thought that all it would take was for me to ask, and he would come at my bidding. What arrogance! Why had it never occurred to me that he might no longer love me? Or want me?
Could I have been so wrong? Or just simply blind?
Perhaps that was why the chill I suddenly felt was more devastating than the emptiness I had carried in my heart the past six months. Oh, I hated vulnerability!
It’s incredible how one can go on even when one had thought there was nothing left to draw upon. Keith’s ‘NO’ echoed in my brains, giving me a headache, making me unable to think straight.
‘I see.’ I managed to say softly.
‘I’m so sorry, Dusty.’ Keith mumbled, looking down.
God, the pain was all but ready to spring forth, but at that moment, the greater need was Keith. ‘It’s not your fault – how you feel is how you feel. Don’t be sorry.’
There was no way I could let Keith feel guilty for not loving me. I swore the room rocked as I absorbed that thought. He had been unable to tell me he loved me, and he had refused to move back. How else did I need it to be spelt out?
He looked up at me pleadingly. ‘Will … will I see you sometime? … uhm … you will come by …?’
I had preached honesty to Keith incessantly during our two-year relationship. How could I lie to him now? ‘I can’t promise that, Keith.’
His breath hitched, and he shrugged, looking round him like trying to find an escape path. ‘I’m sorry ...’ he said again, laughing nervously. ‘God! What an ass I am, I have so messed up … uhm … I seem to be apologizing for …’
‘Hey,’ I said gently enough, not wishing to hear any more apologies. ‘C’mon!’
‘Right … I ... I need to get going. ...’ he mumbled.
‘I can give you a ride … where to?’ I stood up, wondering how long I could keep this up.
He waved a hand desperately. ‘No, its all right, you don’t have to. My car is still at the club? I’ll … er … I’ll call Dimitri …”
I told myself to breathe slowly. Underneath the shock of hearing that name, I felt a chilling calmness. I would deal with it later when I had the luxury of solitude.
‘Well, you can wait here till…,’ I cleared my throat painfully. ‘… Till he comes then.’
‘Thanks,’ Keith said, fumbling for his cell phone, which never left his side. I remember how attached he was to that phone and smiled at some memory, some joke we had shared before. And felt all the more lonely all of a sudden.
Keith kept his eyes lowered as he continued. ‘I’ll just walk down a bit and wait … there … uhm … thanks again …’ The silence hung heavy between us. I felt a dead weight in my chest and Keith did not look too good either. He moved slowly towards the front door and I followed him there.
I watched him go, my mouth tight. The minute the door closed, I felt submerged in waves. Breathing became a conscious effort because with each breath came a jolt of pain, and each one was worse than the one before.
Resolutely, I went back to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee, just for the hell of it. The last thing I wanted was coffee. Not yet, I told myself sternly. I would not deal with it yet. Not till I was ready.
My mind danced around the fringes of my emotions, as I busied myself tidying up the house. My movements were mechanical, my brains automatically deciding what to do. At one point, I sat down on the sofa and let my guard down, my mind going back to that pain, like a magnet drawn, and I wondered what it was in human nature that made us intentionally dwell on things that hurt us. Why could we not just move on, and close the door when something ended? Why did we go on hurting ourselves?
I knew the answer to that. It’s what makes us human, being able to grief. Along with that also comes the ability to reason. So I allowed it to go no deeper. Human self-preservation. I gave in to a lick or two when the sting became too unbearable, but I quickly turned off the self-pity because it would have crushed me. Later, I kept saying to myself. Later.
I settled down at the kitchen table once again, with the newspaper in front of me. The untouched coffee pot was cold when the shadow passed by the kitchen window and I looked up into Keith’s face. I had propped my head in the palms of my hands, the ultimate posture of despair, and I straightened up immediately. Keith’s pity now would jut about kill me.
I glanced at the clock and saw that it had barely been an hour since he left.
‘You missed your ride?’ I asked, concerned that he had been left waiting so long in the cold.
‘No.’ Keith said simply.
‘Is your friend late?’ I sounded calm and detached. ‘The offer’s still good to send you …’
‘No.’ Keith said again. ‘He’s not coming.’
‘Oh. Is he too busy to come get you?’
Keith swallowed but was looking steadily at me. ‘I did not call him.’
My brows rose, and I said again, ‘OH!’
* * *
