Loves Me Not

FIFTY SEVEN

BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

After they took my money and left, I remained in the car for a very long time. I didn't know what to do. I had just been robbed at gun-point and lost close to five hundred dollars. In that moment, I wondered whether he was going pull the trigger, or let me live. Fortunately for me, he chose the latter.

I drove home in silence, still in shock from what had just happened. I walked in the house and went straight upstairs to the bedroom. I heard Ben call my name from the kitchen but I ignored him.

Once I was upstairs, I headed into our bedroom and lay down on the bed. I wanted to close my eyes, perhaps rest, try to unwind from the events of earlier – but I couldn't. I lay there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling above me.

The door opened and Ben walked in. I turned my head to the side and looked at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a perplexed look on his face.
"I'm lying down, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," he said blankly. "Are you ill?"
"Sure."
"Sure? What's the matter with you? I called out to you when you got in and you kept going."
"Didn't hear you."
He stared at me, unsure of what to make of my unresponsiveness. Then he sighed. "I can't help you if you don't let me."
"I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."
"Okay. I'll let you rest then."

He backed out and closed the door behind him. That was when I broke down and started to cry. I didn't cry often. I usually just bottled up my emotions over a long period of time, suppressing everything that I was allowed to feel until eventually enough things piled up and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Thankfully Ben was already downstairs and didn't hear me. The last thing I wanted was him coming back in and trying to console me. I didn't need to be consoled. I just needed to let it all out.

_____

The next day went by slow and painful. For some reason, I was dreading going to my parent's place for dinner that evening. I debated cancelling, but I knew Ben would be angry with me. He wouldn't understand why I was feeling the way I was feeling. He'd tell me that everything was fine, that I was just being overdramatic. But how could I tell him how I was really feeling when I couldn't tell him about what had happened the day before?

I took my own advice and tried to just get over it. I brushed my hair, put on a nice outfit, and practiced my smile in the mirror. Everything would be fine. As long as I kept telling myself that, perhaps I'd eventually believe it.

Dinner went as well as dinner's can go. My mother cooked a turkey, which I didn't eat, as usual. The potatoes and the eggplant salad were good. I had more wine than I probably should have. Everyone was eating and talking, saying grace and appreciating one another's company. I tried to stay distracted and keep my mind off the events of the previous day. There were moments where I looked around the room and saw my smiling family and fiancé and I nearly forgot completely. But then just as quickly, my mind would spiral back to being in that car, the gun pointed in my face.

At the end of the night, as we drove home, Ben filled the silence with talking. I sat there quietly, looking out the window, wishing that I could turn on the radio to listen to anything other than the sound of his voice, but knowing that would just start another fight.

I lay in bed next to him, wondering how I could physically be so close to another person yet feel so distant. He was right beside me, our bodies touching, but he was a million miles away. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't understand what was going on in my brain or in my heart. I both loathed and pitied him. That night, I questioned whether I truly did love him or not, especially with everything else that I was thinking about.

Because in all honesty, that was all that had been on my mind lately. The past week, the past day, the entire duration of dinner, and even then, lying in bed next to Ben. The only thing I was thinking about was the fact that today was April twenty-first. It had been exactly one year since Will and Juliette got married. Exactly one year since that night in the hotel with Will.

So you see, that's what I was thinking about that night. That's what I spent the majority of my time thinking about. That's what was really getting to me. But I couldn't say this out loud. I couldn't even say this to myself. Because to say this would be admitting the truth. And the truth was, I still loved him. I was wholeheartedly in love with Will.

I thought that if I put enough time and distance between us that I would eventually get over him and move on with my life. But that was a lie. I would be a fucking fool to think a feeling that strong could ever truly go away. I loved him more than anything I had ever loved before. And regardless of the fact that we hadn't seen or spoken to each other since that night one year ago, my love for him was only growing stronger. My heart belonged to him and only him.