Never Close Enough (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Ella

   The next day was like an exercise in controlled, prolonged, acute, self-imposed heartache.  Ella wasn’t even sure she slept.  All she knew for sure was that she felt like shit.  Her head was pounding and her throat was raw, a product of the crying she had done overnight, no question.  Every time she closed her eyes she saw Porter’s face, close to hers, his brown eyes searching hers for answers she simply didn’t have.  When he wasn’t peering into her eyes, he was touching her and the imprints of his hands on her skin felt like they had been burned or branded on her.  She was familiar with the emotional turmoil but hadn’t been expecting the physical pain that accompanied his absence.

   Had he really told her he loved her?  Was it even possible?  Regardless of how she felt about hi
m, it seemed improbable that he could fall in love with her in so short of a time. Things like this didn’t happen to her.  It seemed as though she couldn’t win, no matter how she proceeded with him.  Either she chose to leave him and then would have to find a way to mend the hole that seemed to be growing larger and more immense by the minute, swallowing every breath she took and tear she cried, or she could choose to be with him, assuming he still wanted her, and perhaps end up broken in the end anyway.

 
She figured a shower was in order.  If anything, she needed the hot water to remind her that she was human.  She always felt better after a shower anyway.  She rolled off the bed refusing to stop and smell the pillows Porter had used again.  Her mind knew they still held his scent hostage, torturing her endlessly throughout the night.  At one point she almost removed them from the bed completely, but eventually came to the conclusion that, as pathetic and stupid as it made her feel, she couldn’t bear any more separation from him.  She gave herself the consolation of smelling him on her pillows as she cried.

   Every muscle ached as she walked to the bathroom as if her body was actually protesting being away from him.  She couldn’t let herself wonder whether
or not he was feeling the same way.  If she started thinking about him at all, she didn’t know is she would be able to stop herself from contacting him.  Calling him and telling him to come back to her, to kiss her, to touch her.  All she needed was for him to breathe some life back into her and she knew the choice to be with him or not wouldn’t be in her control anymore.  Her own body would betray her and demand him to hold her, and there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it.

   As she hobbled to th
e bathroom and turned the water on for her shower, she removed her nightgown and looked at herself in the mirror.  She was seeing her same reflection, albeit, she looked like a train wreck.  Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.  She had dark circles under eyes which only accentuated the bags that had formed there. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest with crazy tendrils of blonde sticking out every which way.  Beyond all the effects of her night of crying, she could still see the body Porter had admired.  She ran a fingertip down from her chin to her collarbone, remembering his mouth there.  She did the same motion from her ear down the side of her neck; that was Porter’s favorite spot.  Her hand ran smoothly, yet tentatively, down over her bare breast, bringing fresh new tears to her eyes.  His admiration of her body had given her a confidence she hadn’t ever felt before and even though she could still see the body he had loved so thoroughly and fully, it meant nothing to her now that his hands would never roam over her skin again.

   She walked over and turned off the lights.  She would rather shower in the dark and not have to look at the body that would remind her only of his absence.  She stepped into the shower and let the hot water run in tiny streams along h
er body.  The touch of the water on her skin was the most contact her body had felt all night and the sensation made her weep, salty tears mixing with shower water and soap.

   This was too much. Her breaths came quicker and with a more frantic, thudding n
eed.  Panic was setting in and she was unaccustomed to this new feeling.  She slid down the wall of the shower and continued to try and breathe as she sat on the floor, water pelting the top of her head, beads of water flying out of her mouth as she managed to keep the air flowing in and out.  It occurred to her that being here, in this house, in this city, was more damaging than she could have ever imagined.  She would have to leave.  Perhaps it was time to go to her parents, explain what had happened, and stay with them for a while.

    After a few minutes, her breathing returned to a somewhat normal rhythm and her heart rate was back to the familiar pace.  She shut the water off wondering if she’d remembered all the steps of washing and conditioning her h
air, but not caring enough to backtrack in her mind.  As she dried her hair and body with a scratchy towel, she heard a knocking on the door. 

   She halted, mid-scrunch, towel in hand, drying her hair.  Was someone really knocking on her door?  Who?  Why
?  Then she heard it again, the unmistakable sound of knocking.  She quickly threw on a tee shirt and shorts and was going down the stairs when the knocking became more hurried and insistent.  She pulled on the door handle and was immediately shocked.

   “
Tilly.  What are you doing here?”  Ella’s mind was running through a million scenarios that would bring Tilly to her door and most of them involved Porter being injured.  “Is Porter all right?”  She asked in a panicked voice.

   “He definitely isn’t ok, El
la.  But he’s not hurt, no.”  Ella breathed a sigh of relief.

   “Then why are you here?”

   “To talk some damn sense into you.  Can I come in?”  Ella backed up and opened the door to Tilly, letting her slide past her into the living room, caught off-guard by her swearing.  Manners took over and Ella was offering something to drink.

   “No, I am fine.  Come sit down, Ella,” Tilly commanded.  Ella found herself sitting next to her on the couch, looking at her blankly, completely at a loss for words.   “Ella,
why are you doing this?”

   “Doing what?”

   “Torturing yourself.  Torturing Porter.”  Ella looked away from Tilly and stared at the floor.

   “I’m not trying to torture anyone.  I am sorry if he’s hurting, but he’s not the only one.  This wasn’t easy for
me either.”

   “Then why are you doing it?”

   Ella exhaled loudly with irritation.  Why did she have to explain this to everyone?  Porter was the only one she felt needed an explanation.  Now she was getting frustrated that he had told his mother and that she was here making pleas on his behalf.  She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to remain calm.

   “Tilly, I understand you are trying to protect Porter, but what happened between us is private.  I don’t really want to talk about it.”

   “I’m here to protect you as much as I am him, Honey.”  Ella felt Tilly’s hand on her shoulder as she gave it a gentle squeeze.  “Porter didn’t tell me what happened.  All I needed was to see his face to know what was going on.  It was obvious at dinner last night that something was bothering you.  This morning when he came to the bar, I just knew.”

   “I can’t talk about this,” Ella said as she rose from the couch.

   “Neither one of you deserve to hurt this way, Ella.  He’s never felt this way about anyone, Honey.  He loves you and you love him.”

   “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?  I don’t know if I love him,” Ella whispered.

   “Of course you do.  Why else would you put yourself through this?  If you didn’t love him, you wouldn’t have a problem seeing him on the weekends or letting him rearrange his life for you.  I understand the fear that comes with loving someone, but I also understand the heartache of losing that love.  I can’t understand, for the life of me, why you would give up his love willingly.”

  More tears, even though she was sure she’d used them all up, came pouring down her face.

   “It would never work, Tilly, him and me.  There’s no way for us to be together,” she said through loud, racking sobs.  Tilly came to stand in front of her placing
her hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

   “Let him figure that out, Ella.  Give him your heart and let him figure out how to keep it, how to protect it.  It’s what he needs.  He needs you to surrender, to stop fighting him, and then he wi
ll move heaven and earth to make sure you feel nothing but love and happiness.”

   “To ask Porter to be with me is asking him to give up too much.”

   “No, my dear girl, asking him to be with you is giving him the best gift anyone could ever give him.”

  
Ella wanted that to be true so badly. 

   “Did you ever ask him what he wanted, Ella?”

   She thought for a moment and shook her head.

   “I knew he would give up everything if I asked him to.” 

   “Hmm,” Tilly said softly in understanding and agreement.  “And that scares you?”  Ella nodded.  “I assume, based on what I know of your last relationship, that you are not use to feeling like a priority.”

   “I suppose not,” she answered quietly.

   “Porter is a simple man, Ella.  What you see is what you get. He wants to be there for you, but he won’t force you.”

   “I know.”  As Ella said the words she heard the vibration of her cell phone against the hard surface of the counter in the kitchen.  She picked up the phone and saw she had a text message from Port
er.  Her heart stopped and any attempts to breathe were halted as well.  She unlocked the screen and his message appeared.

**
Ella, I never knew I could feel this wrecked just from missing someone.  It’s like I am missing a piece of myself.  Please, let’s talk about this again**

   “Is that from Porter?” Tilly asked.

   Ella nodded.

   “I could tell from the way you stopped breathing.”  Tilly started walking towards Ella and stopped when she was in front of her.  “Don’t let your fear of being hurt stand in the way of your happiness, Ella.  I would give that advice to anyone, not just the woman my son loves.”

   Ella watched as Tilly walked out of her front door, leaving her to contemplate what to do next.  She was looking at her phone like the perfect respo
nse to his text message would type itself.  Hoping for some inspiration as to what she was supposed to say to him next.  She knew what would happen if she agreed to talk with him.  She would crumble.  She would undoubtedly be happy.  But for how long?  Was he worth the risk?  Every fiber of her being was telling her yes.

**Come to my house when you’re off work.  We’ll talk.**

   Ella looked at the clock that said it was past one in the afternoon.  The day had been lost while she was crying in her bed.  She figured she had a few hours before Porter turned up.  She didn’t want to spend that time being anxious or nervous, but she feared she had no choice.  She went back upstairs to finish getting ready for the day. 

   Ella started really watching the clock around six o’clock.  She figured he would be there any minute and couldn’t keep her hands from shaking when she tried to do mundane things like brush her hair or wipe down the counters.  She tried to keep herself busy by sweeping the floor, making her bed, and loading the dishwasher.  By seven o’clock she was starting to worry he wasn’t coming.

   At seven fifteen she heard a knock at the door and it felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her.  She stared at the door for a few seconds, unsure
if she would be able to move to answer it.  Finally she regained use of her legs and walked towards the door.  She stopped at the mirror to make sure she looked all right and gave herself a little laugh because she looked terrible.  The dark bags hadn’t gone away and she looked pale. There was nothing she could do about it, so she resigned herself to opening the door and letting him see what his absence had done to her physically.  

   She immediately made eye contact with him hoping that would give her t
he guise of being confident.  What she saw stripped her raw.  Once he saw the state she was in, she watched him flinch and move towards her, to hold her and soothe her, but he held back.  She saw on his face the instant he remembered they weren’t together and pulled his arms back to his side, fists gripping air so hard his knuckles were bulging and white.  Watching him withhold himself from her hurt physically, caused her pain right in her gut.

   “Do you want to come in, Porter?”

   “No.  I’d rather not.” He said while still looking her directly in the eyes.

   “Um, all right.  Where would you like to talk?”

   “Grab a sweatshirt and meet me on the beach,” he said and then he turned and walked around the house towards the beach.

   Ella stood in place for
a few seconds trying to process what had just happened.  He had looked more mad than upset, and the terse and abrupt way he’d spoken to her was unsettling.  She sighed, went upstairs to grab her sweatshirt and then headed out the backdoor to the beach.  She was resigned to accept whatever he had to say to her.  Even if he was angry, she probably deserved it.