Counting Down (2 page)

“I love you Abby.” With somber eyes he reached out one hand to touch her arm. “I want to be with you and only you. Nothing else matters.”

Abby took a moment to breathe, pretend
ing
to look at the clock on the wall behind her. Suddenly she realized she just didn’t care. She didn’t feel anything at all. There wasn’t a hint of tears, no real anger brewing inside her. Had she known this would happen all along? Been expecting it and preparing for the past year?

She looked at Alex and saw the real pain, heavily tinted by guilt, shining back through his expression.

“I realize you believe that’s true,
” she said in a calm, quiet voice
.
“But o
ur relationship is over. I
’m sorry. I
t’s really just that simple.”

Alex’s arms fell to his sides, his shoulders heaving a little as he plopped back onto the couch. He leaned his frame forward, grabbed
the
half empty beer
on
the table to drain the last of it in one long sip.

His hands ran through his hair, loosening up the s
tiff gel that coated each strand
. “I’m sorry.”

Abby almost shrugged but caught herself. She was actually relieved that the Alex Peterson chapter of her life was over. Of course she was hurt. At least she convinced herself she should be. He had cheated, betrayed her in the worst way. And that should be painful.
Right?

It wasn’t
that Abby didn’t care for Alex but she knew it wasn’t in the way she was supposed to
. They had been saying I love you like some people say hello and goodbye. There was no feeling behind the words. She said them because he said them, because she was expected to say them. And it just wasn’t enough anymore.

The height of their relationship had come and gone; faded like beauty and youth and all that other clichéd stuff old poets write about. Now they were nothing more than one of Shakespeare’s sonnets; nice, somewhat memorable, yet ultimately not a life altering experience.

Alex was always busy at
his
gallery and Abby was constantly painting or working on commissioned illustrations. They lived in New York and they were both immersed in the rich and complicated art scene of the city. They had little time for each other. Worse, neither of them went out of their way to make time.

Abby would probably never be able to deny that she was attracted to Alex in a completely physical way. For a split second she thought about going to bed with him once more for old time’s sake. But Alex was too emotional and guilt ridden and Abby
didn’t have much
emotion for him at all. It wouldn’t be fair to lead him on or toy with him that way. Plus, having sex with him would be like saying what he’d done was okay. And it wasn’t. If nothing else, she had to hold on to some shred of dignity.

“I know you feel bad about the whole thing. I get that. I really do. But the more I think about it, our problems go beyond you sleeping with whoever has the matching purple panties to go with that bra.”

Alex looked up in mild surprise. “They do? Wait I thought we were pretty happy together.”

She sucked in her breath and exhaled heavily. “We had lots o
f um…
fun
which was admittedly
pretty great
. But that’s about all we had. And I want more than that. No, I need more than that. Sex is great, but it’s like only having chocolate fudge on your sundae when you like whipped cream and cherries too. Oh, and strawberry sauce. Lots of strawberry sauce.”

Alex seemed to be taking her words in before he spoke, most likely trying to dissect her obscure analogy. “Okay, but we can work on that other stuff. We can spend more time together, go on dates again, and all that romantic crap.” He smiled in his usual seductive manner. “We’ve already got the hots for each other Baby. If all that’s missing is flowers and champagne I can do that.”

“Oh
Alex.” She turned sympathetic eyes in his direction. “I don’t think contrived
ideas of romance are
going to fix this.” She didn’t want
this anymore; no longer wanted to pretend their relationship was enough to be fulfilling for either of them
. “I think we should just accept that we’re not going to work and get on with our individual lives.”

“I’m not sure I can do that right now Abbs. I can’t just walk away from this, from you and our life together.”

“What life together?
” Abby’s words were calm.
“
We barely spend time in the same room and when we do it’s just for a quick tumble. If you wanted to work on this you should’ve done something a long time ago.
We both should have. Besides, y
ou don’t even see me Alex. You’re too busy staring at yourself.”

His eyebrows rose. “Well it was more than just sex for me and I’m not ready to give up on us.”

“After the seriously bad choice you made, it
’s not really up to you anymore.”

Minutes went by with neither of them speaking. Alex was visibly upset. Abby could tell by his set jaw and determined expression that he wasn’t going to let their relationship end that easily. He was a stubborn man who hated being told he couldn’t have something. Or maybe he really cared. One way or the other she wasn’t going to give in to him. She had principles and so help her, she wasn’t going to succumb to his charm or his tempting advances. They were done. Over. Period. She would remain diligent…steadfast… or whatever.

“Where will I go?” Alex walked to the fridge, pulled out another beer. “This is where I live. All my stuff is here.”

Abby thought for a moment and tucked her short blonde hair behind her ears. Alex had no family in the area or even many real friends. Least of all any that would let him crash on their loveseats and take up time in front of their bathroom mirrors. Alex was notoriously vain and needed more time getting ready in the morning than a bride on her wedding day.

“I r
eally hadn’t thought of that,” she said.
“
What about staying at your new girlfriend’s place?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I barely even know her.”

“Oh, that’s just great
.”
Abby clenched her eyes shut and sighed.

He ignored her. “Besides, I think she lives outside the city with her parents.”

“I ho
pe she was at least legal.
Did you check her ID?
”

Again he ignored her, resumed his place on the couch. Looking up, he flashed his best little boy eyes at her. “I can’t be homeless Abbs. I mean, I could sleep at the gallery, but where would I shower and stuff? I could
n’t
make it as a cardboard box guy who smells like cheese and wears stained clothes. I’m
not
going to sell much art from the walls working the hobo look. And with Christmas just around the corner…”

Damn him, Abby thought. She couldn’t turn him out on the streets. Though
part of her
really, really wanted to. In fact she imagined she’d get some sort of pleasure out of knowing he was camped out on the concrete
-like
couch of his gallery office with no TV and no beer
stocked fridge. She sighed and closed her eyes for a second.

Abby let out a heavy, frustrated breath.
“Fine, you can stay here until you find a place. But you sleep on the couch Alexander Peterson. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am.” He looked up with a wide grin. “It’s a nice couch. I always liked it. Very cozy, you know.” He patted the sofa like it was his favorite pet, kicked his feet up and clicked the remote to turn on the TV.

“Yeah, this won’t be awkward at all,” Abby mumbled. “Are you still going to sell my work at the gallery?”

“Of course, Ba
by. You know you’re my favorite
artist.” Abby held back the urge to roll her eyes.

“Great. I apprec
iate it. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yeah, what is it Gorgeous?”

“No more pet names. No more Baby, Sweetie, Honeyass, or whatever weird combination of bizarre sentiments you feel like using this week. We’re not a couple so we don’t do terms of endearment. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” His eyes were wounded as he took another sip of his beer. “I understand.”

“Great. I’m going to bed then. See you in the morning Roomie.” She emphasized the last word on purpose, hoping to get it through his head that they shared an apartment now and nothing more.

Once in her room the determination Abby had felt in the living room started to fade fast. The bed looked too big and cold to sleep in alone. She hated sleeping by herself with no one to throw an arm over in the middle of the night. And how would she dose off without hearing Alex’s rhythmic breathing and subtle nose whistling?

She walked into the connected bathroom to brush her teeth and take her anti-depressants like she did every night. She opened the medicine cabinet, screwed the cap from the orange bottle and took
a pill
from top
. With the little white capsule
sitting in her palm she began to wonder. Why wasn’t she more upset? She had lived with Alex for over a year, had even thought she might be able to love him at one point. Why wasn’t she crying in agony and reaching for the nearest pint of chocolate ice cream?

Had she ever really cared for him the way she was supposed to, the way he wanted her to? No, Abby had let Alex into her life because he could make her feel something, if only for a time. She realized then that since she had started taking the pills five years before, she hadn’t felt anything really, no true emotion. Her life had become little more than one big apathetic blur.

The only upside had been her work. She was able to paint without being governed by her moods or emotions. And surprisingly people liked to buy art that was dead and unfeeling. In the last three years alone she had sold enough to make a nice life for herself
a
nd for the most part she had been happy. At least, that’s what she thought it could be called.

Life should have meaning, she thought. She wanted to know what it was like to feel again, to really experience the gamut of human emotion. There was more to life than a career and
decent
sex. She wanted to laugh sincerely and cry at the end of sappy movies. She wanted to know what it was like to love someone and really love them; love them so hard that you couldn’t imagine life without them.

With a mix of determination and uncertainty, Abby walked to the toilet and dumped every last pill into the water. As the little capsules swirled around the porcelain and finally disappeared, she let out a sigh. Her therapist was going to be pissed.

Thursday, December 13th 2012, 7:52am

A
bby did a lot of dreaming and
usually
knew how to recognize a dream from reality. But she rarely had nightmares or dreams of a real serious nature.
Typically
her nocturnal adventures were made of talking kittens and sexy movie actors
. Which
was why she was so surprised to find herself in the whirlwind of chaos that filled her sleeping mind.

People ran all around her, circling like frenzied, panic stricken sharks. Towers of fire sprung up from the ground like geysers out of the pits of hell. The earth shook beneath her feet. Piercing screams invaded her mind. She pressed her hands to her ears to block out the horrifying sound.

As she looked up on top of a high, grass covered hill she saw a fair skinned man dressed from the waist down in
leather
breeches
. P
ieces of
metal
jewelry wrapped around his neck and wrists. Tattoos stood out on the pale skin of
his
upper arms,
moved
over his shoulders and spiral
ed
onto his neck.
With a wooden staff in one hand, he raised his arms above his head, and looked straight into her.
His eyes glowed like liquid jade as he opened his mouth to speak. Over the sound of the entropy around her, Abby heard his melodic voice ring out clearly as though he were standing right beside her.