Lust (35 page)

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what has happened.

Stop…Stop please. Just talk to me.” Alexander’s tone was as
loud as mine, now forcing me to realize I was in fact screaming
in the middle of a hotel lobby.

“Chrissy. She passed away early this morning. They have
been trying to reach me but they couldn’t. My little girl, my
best friend…I didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye. She’s
gone. Get me out of here now.” And the same way I had come
is the way I left: running.

My mother had been trying to call me all morning, but my
cell phone was off, so she reached out to Samantha to get a hold
of me. Samantha had barely been able to get the words out as she
told me about Chrissy. Chrissy had called my mother to go stay
with her the night before when she started feeling ill. We grew
up together, and Chrissy’s family had moved far, so my mother
was like her mother. Samantha said that at 4:00 a.m., my mother
called 911, but Chrissy had already passed. We knew that the cancer
treatments weren’t going well, but she was one of those people
you just had to say, Why her?

In a matter of twenty minutes, Alexander had packed everything
and arranged a car to take us to the airport. I fell into
a frozen state. I sobbed loudly and embraced myself with my
own arms, which gave me little comfort, but were the only ones
I wanted.

The flight coming home would take forever; we were going
against the winds, so the probability of us making it home
early was slim to none. In fact, it would probably take us longer
than the usual thirteen hours.

Alexander remained in the main cabin from the moment
we boarded the plane. I curled up onto the bed in the closed
bedroom and cried. I cried for my friend who died of cancer,
cried for my mother who watched my friend die of cancer, and
cried for me—who wasn’t there as my friend left this life and
me behind. I had been there for her always, and when she needed
me the most, I betrayed her. I was selfish. I was halfway
around the world fucking a man I barely knew.

A knock came at the door at the same time as it opened.

The hostess took a few steps in to the room and tried to help
me. “Can I get you some tea, sweetie?”

But I couldn’t answer; I couldn’t enjoy a cup of tea, or anything
for that matter. And seeing that I wasn’t responding,
she turned and walked back out the door, but it didn’t close.

Alexander was in the doorway, making his way into the room.

“Evangel—”

I jumped as I heard him.

“Don’t you fucking dare say that name. I’ve already told
you. That name is cursed and followed by death, and you…I
have nothing to say to you.” I knelt on the bed with a feeling
of hate and disgust for what he was responsible for. “You have
taken something away from me that you will never be able to
rectify. I will never have another chance to say good-bye to her,
to tell her I love her. And it is all your doing. I hate you and
I never want to see you again.” I held my stance on the bed,
gunning him down with my bloodshot and tear-shed eyes. My
face was streaked from my heartbreak, and my hands clenched,
ready to kill anything that came in my way.

“I didn’t do this to you or her. I know you are upset, and if
you don’t want me in here, I’ll go in the other room. But please,
don’t say something that you won’t be able to take back. Don’t
say something that you are going to regret.”

And as he finished his plea, I was broken. He was worried
about losing me, when I had just lost a piece of my heart. “The
only thing I regret is ever meeting you. Get out of here!” I
screamed.

Red faced and at a loss for words, he walked out of the bedroom,
leaving me once again with my loss.

The flight’s duration was fifteen and a half hours by the time
the jet came to a full stop on the runway. Alexander must have
made some calls during the flight, because a car was waiting for
me at the airport. I left whatever bags he had Samantha pack for
me and jogged out of the plane and directly into the car, giving
the driver the address for my mother’s home in Long Island.

Alexander wasn’t in the main cabin luckily. I couldn’t see him,
couldn’t look into his eyes. All of the memories collected in my
time with him were now tainted by Chrissy’s death and the fact
that I wasn’t there when she died.

I clearly couldn’t blame Alexander for Chrissy’s death—it
wasn’t about that. He had nothing to do with her having cancer,
but it was my involvement with him that led to my absence
in her time of need and death. All I could think was, Had I not
spent the night, she would have reached me. Had I never been involved
with him to begin with, I would have spent the last week with her; I
should have been with her these last few hours instead of playing the
little girlfriend halfway around the world. This wasn’t me, this
wasn’t my life.

I arrived at my parent’s home in the late afternoon. There
were cars lining the long driveway as we pulled up, and I sensed
the darkness in the air as I approached the door and let myself
in. I froze in the foyer and faced the living room lined with my
family and Chrissy’s closest friends. My mother was the first to
reach me as I broke into a hysterical cry. Samantha came and
joined the embrace while all the others remained, watching the
fall of strength that has always surrounded my persona. I was
in shambles.

Chrissy’s parents were coming in from California the next
morning, and we respectfully waited for them to complete the
funeral arrangements. I tasked Samantha with cancelling my
schedule for the next few days and sent my father to my house
to pack some things for me.

I couldn’t go out, not into this world—the cruel world that
ended the most precious of things with no explanation or hesitation.

I felt cheated; the loss of this amazing person in my life
left me empty, and the only comfort I could find was in the
darkness of my childhood bedroom.

The next forty-eight hours were spent recapping the events
with friends and then with Chrissy’s parents—moments that
would stay with me until the end of my days. Samantha came
and went all day, every day, but I refused to see anyone. I left
my room for seconds at a time, crying myself through every
moment. Chrissy was right: life was given by chance and taken
just as quickly and unexpectedly as it came.

In a week’s time I had been sucked into a bubble—a bubble
of pretty things, smiles, lust, and love. And with only a moment,
it was all gone. There were no pretty things to look at,
no smiles to hope for, and no lust or love to feel.

I thought about Alexander every second of every day that
passed, and in my moments of sadness, I longed for him to embrace
me and make all this pain go away. But in my moments
of anger, I blamed him. I blamed him for forcing a life on me
that I hadn’t planned, that I wasn’t ready for, and that I feared
to the depths of my soul.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The funeral services were beautiful. The church was bursting
with calla lilies—Chrissy’s favorites. Close to a hundred friends
and family attended both the service and the burial, including
myself, my family, Samantha, and Marcus. Alexander was no
where to be seen. I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing
him, but my heart stopped and my head turned every time
someone walked through the doors.

At the burial, we stayed close to Chrissy’s family. Since they
were from out of town, my parents had them staying with us
until everything was settled. I spoke very little, even as I said
good-bye to the mass of mourners and continued to stare at the
sepulcher with the mother and child sculpted into the cement
above Chrissy’s grave. There was nothing to be said, nothing
that could make me think or feel except Marcus and Samantha.

Samantha had known Marcus for less time than I knew
Alexander, yet their closeness and affection would give the impression
that they had been that way for a lifetime. She cried
into his chest and remained in his comforting embrace for what
seemed like an eternity. I envied the way he rocked her consolingly,
giving her the hope that everything would be OK.

Even my parents held onto each other tightly. Then there was
me, left to mourn on my own; but it was of my own doing. I
had cast Alexander out with the harshest of words, securing
that he would never come back to me again.

After the burial, all of the guests were invited to my parent’s
home to pay their respects. I distracted myself by helping
my mother cook and prepare and greet all those who arrived.

I wasn’t playing hostess; I was filling my time with mindless
tasks, hoping to avoid the empty existence that occupied me.

I heard my name being called from behind me.

Chrissy’s mother was a petite woman, very quiet and poised.

She carried a look of relief in her eyes as she approached me.

“My dear, how are you holding up?” she asked. I was struck
with guilt. Here I was consumed by my own sorrow; I had
completely ignored the sadness she carried for her little girl and
only daughter.

“Maria, don’t worry about me. What can I do for you?

Please, is there any thing you need?” I begged, pleading her to
allow me to help even if I hadn’t helped her daughter.

“Eva.” She took my hands into her own and squeezed them
tightly. “Please do not stay in this dark place you seem to have
fallen in. Chrissy would not have wanted this. She is in a better
place now, free from pain and suffering. She would be hurt to
see you like this.”

I heard the words she spoke, but I wasn’t listening. She was
trying to make me feel better, but I couldn’t. “I wasn’t there for
her, Maria. I didn’t get to say good-bye.” The tears streamed
from my face like continuous ribbons as I spoke openly about
my feelings for the first time in days, admitting the guilt I felt
inside.

“No, you weren’t. But she wouldn’t have had it any other
way. You were living—living the life that she so desperately
wanted to live. She lived through you and Samantha every day,
and after she last saw you, she told me that she knew you were
in love.”

Maria continued to recount my day with Chrissy in the
chemo suite. Chrissy had spoken to her the following day and
said that she finally saw the face of true love and that she had
seen it in me.

“Don’t you see, Eva? You gave her what she didn’t have
the energy or the time in this life to enjoy. And the night she
passed, she cried because she knew where you were, and she
was so happy that you had finally found love. It is all she could
speak of.”

I couldn’t confirm or deny what she was telling me. It pained
me to hear that I had found something that Chrissy never had
the opportunity to find or experience. But, it also pained me
that I had thrown away that love—a love that Chrissy would
have sold her soul to feel even for one moment.

I missed him. I missed Alexander with every breath I took.

It became more difficult to be away from him.

“Evangeline,” my mother called from behind me.

Maria turned to leave me alone again at the kitchen table.

She kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, “Take every
chance you can, my dear. Live for my daughter.”

“Evangeline, where are you?” my mother called again.

“I’m—” Turning to respond, I found before me all of my
fears, all of my uncertainties, and all of my love. “Alexander,
what are you doing here?” I asked, with little voice or strength
in me.