I Know What I'm Doing Ch. 04

"No, darling," she had the gall to smile. "I was simply showing you everything you could have with me, everything he could never give you. I know I shouldn't have hurt you like that, but it was the only way to get you to focus on where you need to be. I lied, but all is not lost. We can have a real baby together any time we want. Ethan could never have made you as happy as I can."

"You've seen what your return has done to Aiden and you thought that was happiness?" Mike asked from beside me.

Carolynn's eyes stayed locked on mine, "I needed a chance to make you love me again. You loved me before, so why not again?"

"That's just it," I shot back. "I never loved you. What we had was... convenient - until you destroyed it. But Ethan... I've never felt that way for you."

"You don't love him."

Her calm statement was the final offense. I wrenched free, pushing past my brother and rushing forward, but when I reached her I couldn't bring myself to touch her. I knew I'd break her in half. Instead I swiveled around and grabbed a small sculpture off a side table, throwing it with all my might. My grandparents must've been standing halfway up the stairs all along because I heard Gram let out a short scream when the sculpture crashed through a window.

I faced Carolynn again, struggling to control my breathing, "Out. I want you out - IMMEDIATELY. Right now! And I'm getting rid of EVERYTHING you leave behind."

She was shaking her head, "You can't turn me away; you can't reject me. Do you have any idea how many men would kill for the love I've given you? Besides, you don't love that man. It's me; it has always been me. It's always-"

"You stupid, little..." Michaela strode forward with determination. All her weight was behind her fist when connected it with Carolynn's face, "FUCK!"

Carolynn crumpled but Michaela continued ranting, "How did no one ever tell me how much that HURTS?! Oh thunder on a stick, my hand-"

Chris pulled her to him, "You never struck us as the brawling type, sweetheart. How're you feeling?"

I reached for her too, stunned, "How's that hand?"

"Fantastic and fantastic," she half-grinned half-grimaced at both of us. She looked down at Carolynn, "Damn, I guess I'll have to wait for her to come around before I can finish giving her a piece of my mind."

I couldn't help my grim smile, "I think you've been very clear, sis."

Her grey eyes flicked up to mine earnestly, "Aiden, you have to go find Ethan. Go."

I looked at my father, "Dad, I-"

He gave me a push, "She's right, son. Go!"

*

Dan's car was small but fast.

The moment we got to his place, I beat him to his own door and banged my fist against it. Dan unlocked it before Ethan had a chance to respond and I pushed in. The kitchen and living area were empty.

Dan rushed to the bedroom, "Ethan?" then the bathroom, "Ethan??"

He came out, shaking his head.

I released a frustrated grunt, "Where could he have gone?"

Dan shrugged, "I don't know. He never went out alone the entire time he stayed here."

I pulled out my cell to call him, feeling excitement bubbling up under the frustration. I was so close. A moment later I was disappointed, "Voicemail; it didn't even ring. He's turned his phone off."

"Boss," Dan called me to the kitchen.

I joined him in reading the note stuck to the fridge:

'Please don't be angry with me for leaving this way, I knew you wouldn't allow it otherwise. I need to take control of my life and I need the space to learn how to do that. I also need to figure out how to stop loving him. I'll be in touch.

Thanks for everything, E.'

I kept rereading one sentence over and over again, "He told you he loves me?"

"You knew," Dan said.

"I didn't."

"Sure you did - you were just too freaked out to recognise it. Same with him, no doubt."

I shoved the note in my pocket, "I have to find him. Any ideas?"

Dan shook his head, "He doesn't want to be found. You have to let this go."

"No. Fucking. Way."

###########

~Dark Days~

###########

Turns out Christmas without the tinsel and celebrations, doesn't feel just like any other day. It's lonelier if you don't have anyone by your side. It's so quiet without the laughter; heavier without the love and gifts – and gloomy as hell, even with the sun blazing. It turns out Christmas is impossible to hide from, no matter how far you run.

I'd told Aiden that I would never run from him again; I'd given him my word. And broken it. My father must've been right when he'd said people like me never got joy because we didn't deserve it. I was constantly running from mine.

I'd left home when my father had forced me to choose between running from family and running from myself. I'd avoided many potential friendships, believing I had little offer because, after my mother's death, no one other than Sam had told me any different. And now Mark was painting me a coward. Not only was I running from him, but he had me running from the only man I'd ever loved.

There was that anger again. It surprised me every time it shot through me. I was angry at how much I'd allowed to slip through my fingers while I hid in fear. Time, peace of mind... love.

I couldn't get the years wasted on self-doubt back, but I could deal with Mark. I could make sure he never took happiness or love from me ever again.

#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

I wandered through the house for days on end, knowing it would never feel right without him in it. I looked around at my family as we sat down for Christmas lunch and couldn't shake how incomplete the picture looked.

Five days later they gave up on trying to talk me into joining them and loaded their packed bags into two cars and left. I was a little glad to see them go. The exhausted desperation I carried was refusing to be disguised as equilibrium and I could see the worry in my mother's eyes.

The house was quiet without them, but it was empty without Ethan.

I made a cup of coffee the way he liked it and spent the first hour alone on the back verandah watching it go cold. I emptied it impatiently and went upstairs. Instead of the master suite, I went into his room. It was a stupid idea that I further compounded by drawing back the covers on the bed and climbing into it. I closed my eyes to the sunset outside because it was the colour of lava and strawberries.

The next day was New Year's Eve. I dressed early and grabbed my surfboard before heading down to the private beach. The waves were decent enough and I spent the whole day out there.

Loving Ethan was turning out to be the easiest and hardest thing I'd ever done. Easy because the feeling grew, no matter what I did. I'd loved him when I'd first seen him; and needed him more as I got to know him. But the hardest part still lay ahead: I had to make him believe in my feelings for him. I'd let him suffer under my qualms and compliance to Carolynn's games for so long, he'd probably slam the door in my face the next time he saw me.

I wouldn't blame him. But I wouldn't let him keep it shut either.

#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

~Ethan~

After the way circumstances had come together to keep me in Plett for an entire month, I was rather depressed by how easy it had been to get back to the city. Three phone calls, in fact. The first one to the bus station to book a seat to Cape Town; the second to get a cab to fetch me from Dan's; and the final one got my former professor's housekeeper to meet me at the house to drop off the key. It occurred to me that I could've saved myself a world of trouble by making those phone calls the first day Aiden had opened his door to me. Or the day he'd kissed me. Or...

The house was in a quiet area and had a lovely view. I knew that because Professor Ngubeni had told me so, not from any explorations of my own.

I kept my phone off for the most part, but made sure to check my messages each day. A few days after Christmas I turned it on again. All the messages were from Aiden. I never listened to them, I just pressed delete as soon as he identified himself.

That Monday, however, I had a little more in mind than clearing out my voicemail inbox. An idea had started forming the previous week and, as the final week of the year began, I knew I had to set it rolling.

I woke up after a restless night, feeling stiff and jumpy. After staring into the fridge and cupboards for more than twenty minutes I decided the glass of juice I held would be breakfast enough. My phone glared accusingly at me from the other end of the table.

I ignored it and went to the lounge for my laptop. I logged into my site and navigated straight to the search engine. Mark Reynolds' name called up quite a number of matches but I recognised the picture I was looking for instantly. It was two years old; I knew because I'd taken it on our trip to Sun City. I sent him a message and waited.

I got a tentative greeting back by that evening. I asked him how he'd spent his Christmas. He asked me why the police were looking for him. I lied; I told him the other tenants must have called the police. I told him that I never wanted to see him arrested. My skin crawled as I told him I missed him.

My hands were shaking by the time we logged off an hour later. No, not just my hands, all of me, even my spirit. I was inside the shower before I realised I hadn't gotten undressed. I stripped under the hot spray, crying as my clothes hit the tiles. I just stood there until the steam started suffocating me. I got out and it was only after long moments of searching that I remembered there was no oversized robe for me to wrap myself in. I pulled on my pyjamas instead.

I went to sit in the living room in the dark, thinking about the last time I'd gone to church. It had been seven years ago, while my mom was still alive. The following year my father had told me I wasn't welcome at church as God had turned his back on me. I'd believed him. Why else would my mother have died so senselessly if not to punish me?

I was whispering before I even knew it had been my intention to pray. At least, I think it was a prayer, "I was wrong, wasn't I? I'd dimmed the memories of the love she'd shown me when I shoved them to the back of my mind along with all the guilt I felt over her death. She wouldn't have loved me even harder after I came out if I hadn't deserved love. She'd called me smart and strong and I never believed her. I listened to my father instead of hearing her. Was she right? Am I strong?"

I nodded in the dark, "Yes. Strong enough to see this through; and strong enough to move on... alone... after it's done. I'm done running. I'm here to ask for back up; please, just help me through whatever's supposed to happen. And one more thing, I need you to keep an eye on someone for me. Someone special. Please."

*

The next day when Mark asked if he could call me, I almost smashed my laptop after writing my response, 'Yes, I'd love to hear your voice again.'

My first impulse was to call the police. But I curbed it, knowing they would end my plan before I could see it through. So I paced for ten minutes before gathering the courage to turn my phone on.

I was thinking about a walk I'd taken on the beach with Aiden, when my phone rang. I stared at it, giving one last thought to backing out before it was too late. But backing out wasn't an option, not anymore.

I picked it up, "Hello?"

"Hi, angel," he sounded as guarded as I was feeling.

"Mark," something oily slithered along my belly; I hated it when he called me that, "I've missed you."

"Have you? You haven't shown it," Mark had a mellifluous voice that perfectly matched his golden good looks.

"I was scared. You hurt me the last time so-"

"You know that wasn't my fault," he bristled. "I just wanted to talk to you and you didn't want to listen."

"I know; you're right. I never gave you a proper chance. I've finally realised that and that's why I had to contact you."

Our first conversation was short. I had a hard time keeping things light to avoid triggering Mark's short temper. I took the blame for everything that had ever gone wrong between us. Describing the lonely Christmas I'd had was no lie; and when he asked me where I was I told him the truth then too.

"In Rosebank," sweat popped on my forehead. "Prof Ngubeni's gone on sabbatical so I'm renting his house for a while."

"I don't know where it is."

"Not far from the university," I had to clear my throat when it clogged. "I could send you directions if you'd like to visit."

"I don't know," the slight agitation again, "we'll see."

I knew he'd be suspicious of my motives so I made sure not to put any pressure on him. I also avoided asking him where he was. If I was going to draw Mark out, it would have to be at a pace that he set.

I brought up our first few weeks of dating and heard him relax notably. He chuckled as he reminded me of how nervous I'd been the first time he'd taken me to a gay club. Not long after, I heard a male voice in the background and Mark told me he had to go. It was worrying to know that he might have a new victim lined up. I ignored the other voice and tried to sound excited when he whispered that he'd call me again that night.

*

For the next three days Mark called at least twice a day.

He tossed fond memories, accusations and bouts of depression my way during every conversation we had. Keeping our talks and him stable started taking its toll on me. Each night I was kept up by the irrational fear that he'd find me and finish what he'd started that night at the club more than a year ago.

He never did sneak up on me, though. When he couldn't stand keeping away any longer, he came out and said it on New Year's Eve.

"I want to see you tomorrow."

I nearly dropped the phone, "Tomorrow?"

His tone immediately turned edgy, "Yeah, tomorrow. Is there a problem? I thought you said-"

"Tomorrow's great," I said. "I just wasn't expecting this. I was hoping, of course, but you never seemed as interested..."

He chuckled smoothly, "Oh, I've been aching for you, angel, but I first had to make sure that you weren't playing some game. I know how you love those games of yours, always trying to make me look bad..."

"We should go somewhere nice," I interrupted, "like a fancy restaurant where we can celebrate our reunion. We could dress up and-"

"No, I was thinking a private party would be lots more fun."

A chill skated down my spine, "Alone?"

"Naturally," he was smirking, I could hear it. "We'll spend New Year's day making up, the perfect way to start the year, don't you think?"

No more running.

"I can't wait."

*

~Aiden~

I gave up on avoiding the soundless house.

It was late in the afternoon and the heat kept making me think of ice cream, which in turn only served to remind me of Ethan. I packed up my things and trudged back up the hill.

It was cool and quiet inside the house.

I dumped my wetsuit in the guest bathroom then went upstairs to wash the seasalt off me, but made sure not to linger in the shower. Ethan's face had a tendency to plague me when I kept still for too long and I knew what it would look like beside me in there, the same way it had looked when I'd pulled him in from the rain. And his eyes would shine the way they had that night in the club. The night he'd knelt before me and-

I went back downstairs and paced the kitchen. I slammed cupboard doors and dug around in the fridge, wondering why I had no appetite. I was normally ravenous after spending hours in the water.

Rick Landon's idea of a Christmas card lay on the island in the kitchen. His trip to the auction had been a successful one and he'd faxed me confirmation of the purchase. I was officially the proud owner of an upmarket townhouse complex in Johannesburg. I should have taken that trip myself and just taken Ethan with me. Then maybe we could've avoided most of the drama that had split us up.

I shook the tension from my shoulders and raided the cupboards with determination. Crackers. Great. With a sigh of defeat I tossed them on a plate with cheese slices and a giant scoop of preserved figs. Might as well make it a party; I grabbed a bottle of merlot and marched to the dining table.

The wine didn't help. By the third glass I couldn't shake the thoughts of Ethan any more. I couldn't understand why his face was haunting me more strongly than usual. And it was troubling me that I kept picturing him the way he'd looked when he was hurt. And I kept wishing I could hold him protectively. When the image of him on the day I'd seen him crying in the garden lodged itself in my mind, I grabbed a fresh bottle of wine and headed upstairs.

The master suite had a king sized bed, far more comfortable than any double, yet I caught myself considering spending another night in the guest suite. I walked out onto the balcony instead. I spent an age on a chair out there, sipping wine and convincing myself that I couldn't drive to Cape Town until I had a concrete search plan. The sky slowly turned black and mocked me with a million stars that looked like sparkling fucking diamonds.

Hours later I watched fireworks blaze across the town below. I hadn't even noticed midnight approaching. With the last sip of wine gone, I went back inside. I brushed my teeth without once meeting my eyes in the mirror. After stripping I climbed into bed without bothering to find pyjamas. I turned out the light and lay on my back.

"Happy new year, baby."

*

"Happy New-! Oh, it's you. Where's Ethan? I wanted to surprise him."

"Sam!" I pulled him into a rough hug before I could stop myself.

"Oookay," he squinted at me. "Where're Ethan and the real Aiden?"

I sat him down in the living room. He yielded hesitantly, making me nervous about what I was about to do. But I knew I had to open up to him – he was the closest link I had to Ethan and I was desperate enough to try anything. So I told him everything that had happened since he'd left. I was hoping he'd be more willing to help me if I was completely open with him.

"You love him," he stated that part before I could get to it.

He'd slumped back into the couch. I watched him steadily as he studied me. After some time I caught a glimpse of a smile; the smile I offered back to him was bleak.

"Can you help me find him?" I asked.

"I know where he is."

It was the best answer I could have hoped for. I'd never gotten ready faster in my life. I barked orders on my way through the reception area of the Montgomery and hoped Jane had gotten them all. By the time I called Dan to tell him I was leaving town Sam and I were already in his SUV. I gripped the wheel, suddenly noting that I hadn't even asked if he was okay with letting me drive. He handed me the keys without a word.

I felt a rush as we exited Plett and stepped a little harder on the accelerator.

#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

I cut the same finger twice.

Mark was coming over at six and he'd told me to cook something nice. He knew that I couldn't find my way around any kitchen, that I hated cooking, but he'd told me to prepare something anyway.

I tore off the first bandaid and ran some water over the blood while I used my teeth to tear open a bigger one that would cover both cuts. All I could think about was calling the police but that would have to wait. If I called them too early, they'd storm in to rescue me before I managed to trap Mark. I avoided thinking about what would happen if I didn't call them in time.

"My poor angel..."

My heart leapt and I knocked the glass bowl beside me off the counter. I spun around and felt tiny shards spray across my ankles when the bowl hit the floor.

"How- How did you-?"

Mark was leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge area, smiling at me. His dark eyes were hard, though. Calculating.