Arsen: a broken love story, стр. 39

“Well, tell me about it. We have a couple minutes to waste.” I feel the first sincere smile on my face since yesterday evening.

Amy grabs a fiery red wave between her fingers and observes it for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Catherine, Cathy, Cat…the sad truth is that I need a good screwing. I have forgotten what it feels like to have an orgasm without my rabbit.”

I feel my cheeks blush. “Um,” How do you answer that? “I thought you, uh, weren’t you seeing that guy with the yacht? What was his name? Nigel?”

Amy moves to sit on the corner of my desk, exactly where Arsen sat yesterday. The moment feeling like a deja vu. “Yes…but he wasn’t good in bed. At all. Like, sex with Nigel was one, two, ooooh baby, baby, you’re so tight, so wet, and he was done.” Snapping her fingers, she motions the quickness of the act itself before continuing, “I’m totally under-fucked. Which reminds me, I need you to introduce me to Charles. What? Don’t look at me with those big and pretty green eyes of yours. I’m a straight woman, they don’t work on me. You know which Charles I’m talking about. Girl, I need him in my bed. Now. And you’re going to make it happen.”

Oh boy.

“Amy, um, he is Bruno’s closest friend. You remember who Bruno is, right? Your boss? My boss? How the hell am I going to introduce you two if I’m not friends with him?”

She waves her hand in the air, as if that small detail has no bearing on the conversation. “I’m not sure. I noticed him at the cocktail party that Bruno held when he first got in town. I saw him talking to you and Ben, and he was checking me out. So make it happen, Cathy. I have faith in you and your planning abilities. Invite him to dinner or something. I’m serious, Cathy. I want him.”

“What makes you think he is, you know, good in bed? I mean he’s good looking but—”

“Darling, dahhhling...the man has been around. Don’t let him fool you by his girly job. If half the things that are said about him are true, I might be bowlegged for a couple days,” Amy devilishly smirks, wiggling her elegant eyebrows at me, and causing us to laugh.

Amy and I are still laughing when an angry Bruno storms into my office. Without saying a word to us, he throws a newspaper on my desk.

“Look at this!” He shouts. Puzzled, we lean over my desk to have a better look at the front page of the publication.

The picture erases all traces of mirth off my face.

Swallowing hard, I reach for the newspaper and bring it closer so that I can see the image clearer. When I’m holding it between my hands, I can feel Amy move closer to me. “Oh, no.”

My stomach recoils as I scrutinize the picture. Plastered on the front page is a picture of Arsen sniffing coke off a girl’s breasts. The white shirt he wore yesterday is mostly open, revealing his beautiful and perfect tanned chest. His blond hair looks messy, but it’s his flat stare that breaks me. His eyes look cold. So cold. Arsen is high on alcohol or drugs, maybe both, and he appears not to care that he’s being photographed. This guy is the old Arsen, not the sweet guy that I’ve grown to care for in the past months. It looks like they are at someone’s house and the girl is the same bartender from last night. The same one.

I know I’m to blame for this.

My throat dry, I’m having some difficulty swallowing as I remember the way he looked at me before leaving. When our eyes connected for an instant that felt like an eternity, I remember seeing emotions reflected in them that I pushed to the back of my mind, pretending that they didn’t exist.

Betrayal.

Hurt.

Anger.

Bruno’s harsh words break me from my reverie. “As you can see, my pride and joy of a son has decided to stop playing the silly charade of a reformed man. He’s gone back to being himself, a waste. Cathy, don’t expect him back. You should start looking for someone else to replace his position. Consider that picture his two-week notice, only that he won’t be back at all. I won’t allow it. Have a good day ladies.”

Astonished, I observe Bruno’s abrupt departure. His angry strides long and purposeful.

After he disappears, Amy snatches the newspaper away from me. Bringing it close to her face, she murmurs the headline, “Arsen Radcliff, a cokehead?”

The words wrap a thin coat of fog around me, numbing me a little, numbing me a lot, but in the end…they numb me.

Arsen.

I won’t see him ever again.

The thought causes my heart to skip a beat, contract…

The thought makes me want to throw up.

It’s been a week since I last saw him.

Since I last heard from him.

It happened last Thursday evening.

Today is Thursday.

Seven days have passed,

And nothing is the same.

Nothing ever is, though.

Right. When I told Ben that Arsen had been fired, it was like blasting an ice-sculpture with a fire torch, watching it speedily melt in front of my eyes. His icy demeanor that began the night we left the bar and carried through the next day until Ben got home and I was able to impart the news, finally thawed. There was no more stiffness in the air.

Life went back to normal.

Back to the way it was before Arsen started working in the office.

According to the article I’m currently reading, Arsen is back with Melissa Stewart. However, he was photographed on Sunday morning exiting the hotel where a very famous pop star is said to be staying. The magazine alludes to the fact that Arsen is two-timing Melissa, America’s next sweetheart, with this dark haired singer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were. That’s Arsen in a nutshell.

I’m numb as I stare at the picture for a while longer until the colors of the image begin to blur, blending together. My beating heart remains calm. It must mean that I don’t care, right? At least not anymore. It’s not even that I miss his flirting or his charisma. No, I miss my friend. I miss talking to him and laughing about everything and nothing at all.

I miss him.

Putting down my magazine on the kitchen counter, I look around the room from my seat. Everything looks so perfect and so neat. I wonder how many cracks lay hidden underneath all the shiny and expensive accessories. Probably many.

Just like me.

“Babe, can you pick up dinner tonight? I may be running late. Amy needs me to stay with her and go over some clients’ demands,” I say, trying to shake the gloom that settles over me every time I think about Arsen.

Ben lifts his brown eyes from a folder filled with paperwork. “Sure, no problem.” He puts the folder down and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looks tired and stressed. The realization hits me that since Arsen came around, I seem to have stopped paying attention to Ben.

I push all thoughts of Arsen out of my mind and focus on my beautiful husband sitting in front of me.

“Cathy?” Ben asks.

Trying to clear my thoughts, I shake my head. “Sorry, babe...what were you saying?”

“The baby, babe. I’m just reminding you to make sure you have Monday off. We have our twelve week checkup.” Oh.

My heart begins to race. “Oh, yes. Of course,” I say as I grab my bag and shove away the first things I see without a care whether I need them or not. “How could I forget? I’ve got to run.” I stand up, tripping on my own feet as the same old crippling fear makes me clumsy.

Slowly, I make my way to my husband who is sitting across from me and bend down to kiss him on the cheek. I need to get out of here before I breakdown in front of him, and he sees how scared I am.

“Wait, babe. What’s the matter?” He grabs the back of my neck to hold me in place as we stare at each other, his free hand caressing my cheek. If he’s doing this because he noticed something in my face, and he’s trying to distract me, make me forget, it’s not working.