Arsen: a broken love story, стр. 75

I remember walking to the coffee shop, sick to my stomach and thinking about Arsen. I thought I saw him following me to the store. I recall turning around, thinking that I saw his blond head sticking out of the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I was sitting on one of those maroon colored couches where your body automatically sinks in because they are so worn out as I inhaled the aroma of coffee and caramel floating in the air. Soon after I sat down, Ben walked in. He had changed. I hadn’t seen him in a month, and he didn’t look like the same man I was married to for six years at all. He had lost so much weight that he looked gaunt, and his clothes were hanging off his body. His usually pristine handsome face was covered in a thick beard, and the only thing you could see were his lips. His maple brown eyes looked blank and bleak, and the bags under them looked almost purple they were so dark. There was so much anger oozing off him...

I knew I couldn’t tell him.

And his words proved I was right. Without saying hello or asking me how I’m doing he got to the point.

“I agreed to meet you here because, frankly, I’m curious as to what you have to say. What is it?” He spits the words at me.

I told him what I’d wanted to say all along.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I g-guess I wanted to apologize to you once more.”

Lie, lie, lie.

“Oh? Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that, Cathy?” he answered as I stared into his beautiful yet empty eyes.

Yes…

I knew right then and there that I still loved him so much. Not even Arsen had been able to erase it. I’d been fooling myself.

“Where is Arsen? I’m surprised you were able to step away from fucking him long enough to meet me. I mean, back when we were married I was lucky if I got to spend five minutes with you on any given day.”

I flinched at his words. They hurt.

“He, um, uh…he’s gone.” I looked down at my hands.

Ben laughed. “Whoa. That was fucking fast. I’ve got to give it to the kid. Think he got tired of fucking you, huh? Tell me, pretty Cathy, you didn’t give it good enough? Think he got tired of you sucking his dick?” He wiped away tears from his eyes before continuing, “How long has it been? Two or three weeks? The magazines seemed to have lost interest in you two.”

“A month,” I said silently.

Ben stood up and looked down at me with a cruel smile on his lips. “Well, I hope you’re happy. Eleven years down the drain for a month of fucking. And no. I can’t forgive you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them and pinned me with his angry gaze once more. “I hate you as much as I loved you. Probably more because I can’t fucking make myself stop. I have to go. I can’t do this anymore.”

He turned around and left. I was crying by then, so I didn’t see him coming back. I only noticed it once he put his hands on the table, and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “You know, Cathy, you were supposed to be my past, my present, my future…my forever. But now…nothing is left. You broke me, you hear me? You broke me. I look at your eyes and your beautiful face, and it still fucking hurts. You fucking bitch, it still hurts. I want to erase every single memory of you. Every single one, until I can wake up one day without thinking about you. Until it doesn’t fucking kill me to think what you did to us. Do you hear me? Please, don’t try calling me again to apologize. I want you out of my fucking life. Out of it.”

Then he was gone

“What are you going to do, babe?” Amy asks.

I shake my head. I can’t speak because the pain is so unbearable. I’m trying to breathe in through my nose and exhale through my mouth to see if it will help me get past the overwhelming feeling that I’m not getting enough air into my lungs. The worst part is that I don’t know whom and what I’m grieving for anymore. Arsen, Ben, the way Arsen dismissed our relationship, or Ben’s anger and his hatred. I bury my face in Amy’s neck and let the physical contact soothe me to sleep. I’m so tired. So tired.

Can you hear it? The sound of my heart breaking, ceasing to beat.

Can you feel it? Excruciating pain, eating me alive, slowly tearing me apart limb by limb.

It’s my fault. Only mine. Not his. Not theirs.

I’m alone.

“Cathy, love. Whatever happens, I’m here. Just know that. You can move in and live here for as long as you want. As you know, I’ve been seeing Charles for a while now. He really liked you, and he feels like shit for what Arsen did to you. Anyway, we will help you through the entire process. You don’t need those two assholes in your life. You need to be dickless for a while and focus on this pregnancy, focus on the good things in your life. Maybe call your dad? He’ll forgive you. Okay?” she whispers as she runs her hands through my hair.

I nod and begin to fall asleep, wondering if I will ever forget Ben’s last words, wondering if I will ever get over Arsen’s betrayal, wondering if I will ever be whole again.

Wondering.

Love is infinite.

There is no beginning and no end.

There’s no starting point and no finishing line.

Love just is.

Love is born, grows, matures, and sometimes it dies.

But the memory will remain with you for the rest of your breathing hours.

You fall in love, you fall out of love.

But you will love again.

You always do.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining, making the windows of the tall buildings reflect its light. It looks like thousands of tiny mirrors adorning the Manhattan skyline.

“How are you today, Cathy?” Crystal, my therapist, asks.

“I’m very well, thank you.” I smile, waiting for her next question.

I started seeing Crystal two weeks after I last saw Ben. At first, I didn’t want to because I really just wanted to drown in my misery, wallow in it until I was dead. At my lowest, I actually considered suicide to make the pain disappear. It hurt so much waking up every morning and living. I wanted to be able to breathe without feeling like my chest was being knifed with every breath I took.

I wanted sweet oblivion.

To vanish.

To feel nothing.

But it all changed on my nine-week ultrasound. Because I’m considered high-risk, I had to have ultrasounds every two weeks until my second trimester, then once a month if the growth of my baby had been on target. Smiling, I touch my huge belly, but I know I won’t be able to breathe a sigh of relief until I am holding her in my arms and I feel her soft little hands in mine.

As I look at Crystal, I think back to the day I decided to fight again. The exact moment when Dr. Pajaree showed me the image of my baby on the monitor. When I saw the little head and the tiniest of bodies, I broke down and cried, the numbness evaporating from my body. That little creature, my little peanut, was mine and all I had left—all that mattered. I decided to fight. It was in that moment, when everything was up in the air with my life, that I realized it was time to seek help; to open up about my fears, my mistakes, and learn not to shut the people out from my life that cared the most about me.

So, twenty-seven weeks later, I’m sitting huge, and very pregnant, on a comfy worn leather couch staring at one of the prettiest brunettes with the bluest of eyes smiling back at me. By the look of her smile, I know what’s coming, and I think I’m ready to go there with her. Little by little since we started our weekly sessions, we’ve talked about everything from my childhood to my miscarriages, but she hasn’t brought up Ben or Arsen again. I think it was in the third session when I explained to her how I had ended up alone and pregnant, but I never felt comfortable discussing them again. I suspect she wants me to introduce the subject, and I want to, but sometimes just thinking about Ben and Arsen brings back the pain, the memories. It brings back the overwhelming feeling of loving someone when all hope is lost.