Dindi Pt. 05

He was sincerely mad. I had poked the bear. Now I had to deal with the consequences and play my own game.

"Don't be ridiculous yourself, Travis. You know me? I'm not the first woman to spend time in your bed, I certainly won't be the last. Do you consider yourself a connoisseur of them all?" My tone was sharp, sarcastic. I threw his past, his reputation at his face, being unfair to him yet again. There's no telling how you make somebody love you. Actually, you don't. It just happens. The recipe to making them hate you is easier.

Travis's face stiffened. The corners of his mouth dropped, disgusted. "You know what? You don't want to say it, don't say it. You know you're not any woman to me. You know I love you, and you know you feel the same, whatever lies you tell yourself."

"God! Does your ego knows no bounds? You know, not every woman you fuck falls in love with you, Travis! We won't all love you like Anissa does! You're not that perfect!" I said, exasperated. I put a hand to my forehead to stop its shaking, almost physically trying to find more hurtful things to say, just to make him desist. "You're 35 and three months with me summon up the only real relationship you've ever had! How can you be in love with me? Do you even know how it feels?"

His complexion reddened. His skin seemed to be thinner, and the hot blood under it was that much more evident. He moved closer to me with an astonishing feigned calmness.

"Yes, Morena! Because of you, I know how it feels! And I feel enough of it to be willing to try and fix this when you -who fucking knows it all- want to run away!" He practically whispered, keeping his rage caged with a great deal of effort. I would rather have him yell at me.

"What if I don't want to fix it?" I puffed my chest, obligating myself to face him on my full height.

That made him lose his grip on his calm act.

"You do. You want to, because you fucking love me, Morena. I've been inside you. I've seen your face when I make you come, when I make you moan my name, and you fucking love me! You need me just as much as I need you!"

It made me want to laugh just how sure of himself he was. Had I been that obvious? Or was it Travis? Could he see that deep inside me? The firmness of his speech was enough to convince me if I didn't know him to be right, already. I did love him. I did need him.

Nevermind that. He'd given me just the right weapon to carry on with my farse.

"You think I love you because you made me come? Please, Travis. A thousand men out there could it. You need me? Need me? You keep saying you need me! You don't fucking need me! You want me to keep your shit together! I just make you feel good about yourself!" This time when I spoke I hit a nerve. Not one that made him mad, though. It was worst than that. I hurt him.

"Morena. That-" His voice was lower when he spoke, but I didn't let him finish that sentence, afraid he'd say anything that would make me rethink my plan to push him away.

"You're self destructive, Travis. You think you're worthless, and you want me to save you from yourself, from your broken family." Every word out of my mouth was automatic. I didn't think of the consequences saying them would bring. "I'm sorry, I can't be your bloody band aid. I can't fix you, as much as I love you!" I stopped, giving my brain time to registered what I had just said. My tongue worked too fast, was too impulsive. I didn't mean to say those words.

I saw it in his face when he heard me. None of the things I said before were taken into consideration. He only heard those three last words.

Damn you, Morena. Why did you say it? Why?

His blue eyes widened and he almost smiled.

"Did you just..?" He seemed to doubt his ears as much as I did my mouth. But I'd said it, loud and clear. "You love me? You see! You love me! Then fucking stay, Morena! Forgive me, for fuck's sake!"

What was it with this man? I had just tried my best to hurt him, offend him, said mean things to him and all he cared about were the three little words that gave him hope? The words I didn't even mean to say?

"Stop asking me to stay, Travis! I can't fucking stay!" I snapped, hoping he'd give it up before I broke down.

"Can't or won't?" He asked.

The look on his face was so tortured, so sad. I felt like the worst person in the world for doing that to him. I had convinced myself it was for the best though. I was damaged. Travis had too much baggage. It was a doomed relationship from the start.

We were a mess. We could only hurt each other. I couldn't trust myself. He couldn't trust himself. I was all fear and reserve. He was all self loathing and impulsivity. Our past relationships wouldn't leave us alone. His damn mother hated me because I was born the wrong colour according to her standards. How could it work?

We loved each other, but love isn't always enough.

Better I run now. Later it would only hurt more. More hurt than this could be physically unbearable.

Those blue eyes on me weighted a ton. I forced my gaze away from Travis's. I didn't even have the courage to face him. "I have to go. I'll miss my flight." I clutched my bag, turning my back to him. Something was bothering me, though. Guilt, most likely, for being such a bitch to him. I felt like I had to say something else. "I do love you, Travis. Yes. I'm sure women loved you before. And it's not your fault I can't trust you, I dragged you into my history. It's just the way I am. There's nothing we can do here. Think of how you met me! How impulsive and crazy that was! This can't work. Fuck, just look at that business with your mother! We both knew this would end eventually. It was sex. It was meant to be just about the sex. We shouldn't have-"

"Oh, fuck that!" Travis exploded, dismissing all that was left of his calmness and reserve. "You can fuck anyone, Morena. Sex you find in every corner! But this," He gestured frantically between us, to some invisible, but tangible thing standing there. "What I feel for you? With you? You don't find this anywhere. I love you! You can't just dismiss that as if it were nothing! I fucking love you. Damn my mother to hell!"

He said those words like they held some kind of power. Actually they did, and he knew just how much.

I had something to say, but I blinked, then my back was against a wall, and Travis's body was trapping mine against his. His heat penetrated the flimsy fabric of my blouse, and reached my skin.

"Travis, don't please." I whispered.

He leaned his forehead against mine, bracing his hands on the wall. I didn't move a muscle. I knew I should push him away, I shouldn't let him touch me, but I loved how it felt to have him so close to me. It was inevitable. I couldn't resist him.

"You don't want to leave, Morena. You want to stay. You want me." To prove his point he reached a hand down, to the hem of my skirt. "Look at me and say it. Say you don't want me. Say you don't love me, too. Say it."

I turned my face to the side, squeezing my eyes shut. I wouldn't say it. I couldn't. No matter how resolved I was to make him give up on me, I couldn't tell such lie.

Travis's hand was very well acquainted with my thighs. His fingers had no trouble sliding in through the sides of my panties until he found that spot where all my need for him was concentrated. Embarrassingly wet and slippery. I fisted my hands on his shirt, feeling my nails scrape the skin under it.

"Ah!" The soft traitor moan that escaped me was a weak, involuntary reflex.

"You see?" He muttered, not hiding his triumph. He let his middle finger dance around my clit, tricking me out of another moan. "See how much you want me? You love me, Dindi."

Dindi. When he called me that, something snapped inside of me.

"Stop it!" An unknown strength surged from a depth in me. I used the hands fisting his shirt to push him away.

He stumbled back, confused, looking like he didn't know where he was. I was left shaking, feeling ashamed of my weakness for him as I straightened my skirt.

"Morena, please." He sucked on his fingers so casually, the simple gesture almost drove me crazy. I was torn between throwing the nearest vase, or myself at him.

"That's enough, Travis." The saner part of me spoke.

This could go on forever. There was nothing I could think to say to end this conversation. Travis would always have an argument to throw back at me, and I didn't want to have to sink even lower to hurt him. So I just made my way to the elevator.

"Morena." He called, walking after me.

"Please don't, Travis. I have to go." I held up a hand, stepping inside the old elevator. My pussy still hummed after his touch. "I don't regret a single moment I spent with you. Not a single one. I'm glad I met you, but I don't know how to stay with you. I'm sorry." I said, already closing the elevator gate.

"You can learn." He retorted.

"I can't."

"You know this isn't the way, Morena. Please." He said, still trying even as the elevator started to go down.

Then just like that, I watched him disappear. Knowing in my gut I had never in my life been so miserable, and most definitely not caused it with my own hands. I had brought it all on myself. I chose the course the conversation followed when I could've handled things differently. No point crying over spilled milk.

I had to deal with the consequences of my own actions. Alone.

****

"How did it go, Mo?" Gee asked me.

"Well," I was crying before the words were even out of my mouth. "He said he loved me and I was a bitch. I did what I had to."

I was a bitch. I was selfish. Selfish. A coward. Now I got what I wanted. I was alone. Again. No one would ever hurt me again, because I would never let anyone close enough to do it. No even the man I loved.

****

SEVEN YEARS AGO

"Mum. I'll call the baker later." My mother could've planned the whole fucking wedding by herself. I wondered why the bloody hell I hadn't let her. "I'm sure they got it all sorted out. They understood the groom is allergic to nuts. Which is why I chose a chocolate cake with chocolate icing and chocolate filling. It will all be fine. Now, I must go. James is home. Bye, Mum. Love you!" I hang up before she could say more.

"Your Mum again?" James asked, shrugging out of his soaked coat.

"Yeah. Babbling about the bloody cake, and the flowers, and the dress...Agh, can't we just slope?" I pushed up from my chair and moved towards him. "Let's go to Vegas. Tonight."

I threw my arms around his neck. His hair was damp from the insistent rain outside. My lips pressed against the cold skin of his neck, but his arms around me were a colder embrace.

"What's the matter?" I asked him, pulling away.

He looked right into my eyes when he spoke. "We need to talk, Morena."

In that moment I wished I had the ability to disappear. Seven years in a relationship with another person taught you things. You knew what they liked, what they hated. You knew what made them sad, what made them happy. You knew when a fight was about to begin.

"About what exactly?"

Please, don't say us. Please don't say us.

"About the wedding." He said, intensely fixing his green eyes on me. He was a lawyer. A bloody good one. He could look anyone in the eyes while telling them the worst imaginable lies.

About the wedding was worse than about us.

"What about it, Jim?" I asked, already feeling a lump clawing up my throat.

"Come have a sit." He gestured to his red chair, but I refused his offer.

"I'd rather stand. Thank you."

"Morena..."

"Oh, just fucking say it, already." I knew that whatever it was he had to say, it wouldn't be anything good. I just wanted to be done with it. "Spill it."

James had been acting funny lately. He seemed to be distracted. Distant. But then again he's always been very quiet and reserved. I just assumed it was wedding jitters. Now I was afraid it might be something more serious.

He ran a nervous hand over his wavy chestnut hair and sighed heavily. Same thing he did every time he was about to say something he knew I wouldn't like.

"I can't marry you, Morena." He said it calmly, making that sound like the simplest affirmative in the world.

My incredulous laugh was scandalously loud. "Oh, darling. That's not funny."

He was serious. I knew he was serious. My brain, on the other hand, refused to accept that information as a valid one.

"Morena, please, don't make this harder than it has to be." He stood there perfectly composed.

"What?" I, on the other hand, had a temper. "You just said you can't marry me two weeks prior to our fucking wedding and you expect me to take you seriously?"

To my complete horror, I felt warm, wet tears ran down my face. James hated when I cried. He said it was a sign of weakness. That I should always fight weakness.

"We should never have let it go this far. It was a mistake from the beginning. We're not right for each other."

I stepped back as if I had been struck across the face. "We're not right for each other? When did you conclude that?" I spat words at him. Me, a complete emotional mess and he, the personification of calmness itself. "Tell me, when did you make this great discovery? When, in all the seven fucking years we've been together?!"

He stood still, calm as a damn statue. Not even a single twitch of eye to tell me he was a feeling human being.

"Morena. Please. You're not behaving accordingly-"

"I'm not behaving accordingly?!" I cut him off. "What the bloody hell do you expect, James? Don't you think I'm behaving accordingly? Accordingly to a woman who's just been told, two fucking weeks before her wedding, that he fiancé can't marry her?"

The floor under my feet didn't even felt real. Nothing was real. Nothing. Because none of this could actually be happening.

"Why?" I asked him when it finally occurred to me to do so.

I was ignoring the pain that threatened to bring me to my knees and beg him to stay. Beg him to marry me. I loved him. I loved him more than anything in the world.

"I can't marry a woman whose priority won't be me." He said, matter of factly.

I wanted to laugh, but only succeeded in gasping. "W-what?"

"You don't want to be my wife, Morena. You don't want to have a family. Our family. You want to be a teacher. You want to have a career. How can I expect you to raise my children when you'll be busy educating other people's?"

My shock was too great to allow me to speak something back.

"You're an extremely selfish person." James continued. "You won't ever be where I want you to be. You won't ever be where I need you to be."

Every word out of his mouth was a blow. For how long had he felt like this? For how long had he known he didn't want to marry me?

Of all the things I could've have said to him...I could've have cursed him to hell. Told him how wrong he was. Called him out for the prick he was, but what came out of my mouth were the most pathetic, prideless words possible.

"But I love you." I whimpered, saying that with the mindless hope it'd change his mind.

The way he looked at me was the way he would look at a stranger he could sympathise with, but not have any real connection with. His mouth twitched and it morphed into the coldest of grins.

"You don't love me, Morena. You don't know how. You can't feel things properly. You love yourself. But not me."

James had a way of always convincing me he knew better. So when he said I didn't know how to love him, I believed him. Somehow I believed it was my fault.

"What do you mean? Of course I love you, James! I love you! How can you-" Instead of acting as the situation demanded I sank to the lowest form of patheticness.

Why would he say such things? What had I done? Hadn't I treated him well? Loved him enough? Where had I gone wrong?

"I'm moving out tonight. You can keep the flat." He said, turning his back to me and walking into our room.

"Wh-" He was moving out? "You're moving out? Where are you going?"

He already had a place to be. He'd been sleeping beside me. Living with me knowing he'd leave me. Knowing he didn't want to be with me anymore. How could such a thing be possible? You dedicate years of your life to another person and they leave you just like that? With little or no consideration for your feelings at all?

He opened the closet and took his old suitcase out.

"I found a place." He said, throwing his shirts, with little regard for their state, into the suitcase.

"You found a place?" I watched him pack a sky blue shirt I had given him.

"Yes." He said flatly.

"Where?"

"Camden."

"Camden?"

The bottle of cologne he had on his hand hit the suitcase with enough force to shatter to glass, if it weren't for the soft fabric of his shirts.

"Honestly, Morena, must you repeat everything I say?" He snapped, face red, eyes wide.

I didn't know what it was. The shock. Sheer stupidity. The love I felt for him. But I felt numb. As if I were in a surreal dream, or rather, a nightmare, just waiting to wake up. It didn't seem possible that he would throw away almost 8 years of our lives like that. And because he didn't believe I loved him? No.

"James," I began, voice small. "We're getting married in two weeks. The invitations were sent months ago. We-"

"We are NOT getting married, Morena! I will not fucking marry you!" In seven years. That was the very first time he had ever raised his voice to me.

I opened my mouth, my lips quivered, but the words didn't come out.

Don't leave me. I love you.

Call it residual pride, whatever. Something wouldn't let me say it. I just watched as James went in and out of the bathroom gathering his belongings and tossing them inside his suitcase.

Two years of a shared roof fit inside that suitcase.

"Is there someone else?" I found the voice to ask him. "Is that what this is? You've met someone?"

James stopped by the bathroom door, with his back turned to me. His silence was all the answer I needed.

I gasped as if someone had physically punched me in the gut. All my strength deserted me and I crumbled to the floor.

"I need the ring back." He said coldly.

My only reaction was to fist the hand with the ring. He took a deep exasperated breath, then crouched in front of me, yanking my arm and forcing my hand open. I had worn the ring for two years. I had put on weight, lost weight while using it. It refused to come out. James pulled it out with little consideration, the metal biting at my skin as the ring slid off with reluctance. All I was left with was a paler line of skin to prove I ever had that ring.

He put the little circle in the pocket of his trousers, then clutched the handle of the same suitcase he had used when he took me to Paris for my 23 birthday. By then I was having enough trouble to breath it showed on my face. It didn't stop him walking past me as if I were a beggar in the street. To be ignored. Shunned.

I heard him close the door. Tears burned my eyes. I couldn't even move. I was waiting to wake up. For that moment when I would crack my eyes open and find James on the bed beside me. I would hug him, wrap my arms around his ribs and tell him about the awful dream I just had.

But I didn't wake up. Air refused to get inside my lungs. I started to feel desperate. As numb as my mind was, my body was fighting. My knees crawled to the bathroom. My hand opened a drawer and found my inhaler. My mouth opened, forcing me to take a gulp of the medicine, before my head fell to the cold tile floor.

You don't love me, Morena. You don't know how. You can't feel things properly. The words ringed in my head like a stubborn church bell. Echoing.

I curled into a ball on my bathroom floor. Hours went by. God only knows how many. I only knew I was alive when George showed up and woke me up.