The Casual Rule (36 page)

Even though he’s out banging who knows who…Who am I kidding? I know exactly who. Still, I can’t bring myself to betray him. What is wrong with me? I don’t understand what tonight was all about. He looked pretty angry seeing me with Pierce. I don’t know why. He’s with his little whore. Perhaps he was coming by to pour salt in my wounds. Maybe he was trying to act adult and civil. He prides himself on the fact that he stays friends with all the girls he screws. Well, screw that. I’m not allowing him to hurt me anymore.

 Grabbing the tote bag with my stash of gossip magazines, other than cupcakes… my only true comfort, I kick my feet up on the coffee table and indulge in reading some trash. Maybe some useless gossip will help me forget how alone I feel for a little while.

I’m finally dozing off once I’m into my third magazine and second glass of wine, when I’m startled by a loud pounding on the apartment door. Allie? I get up off the couch and peek through the peephole. It’s Ben, his arm extending out, leaning on the door. How the fuck did he get into the building? One of my idiot neighbors must have recognized him and let him in. Dammit. My stomach sinks to the ground, pain is back.

“Julia,” he yells as he pounds hard on my door. “I know you’re there. Let me in.”

I stay silent. What am I supposed to do? I sink to the floor and lean against the door. My heart aches. I have to find the strength to ignore him, even though every molecule in my body misses him. I can’t be with him anymore. He doesn’t love me. I’m just another notch on his bedpost, just another conquest. I must protect myself; protect my heart from falling any deeper for this man who doesn’t want anything more than a good time.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” He continues to pound on the door. “I can stay here all fucking night.”

I’m sure my neighbors are enjoying the show. Screw them. I have to listen to their bratty kids screaming in the hallway all day…now we’re even.

“Please Julia… please.” His voice cracks as he quietly pleads into the door.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I weep. I close my eyes tight, placing my hands over my ears and shake my head. I can’t listen anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t do this anymore.

“Julia… Please,” he quietly pleads. “Julia…”

I remain silent, fighting the urge to open the door and fall into his arms.

Fifteen minutes have passed. I haven’t heard a sound from Ben. I guess he finally gave up. I’m disappointed and relieved at the same time. I know I love him, but that’s not enough. He doesn’t want love. He wants sex; he wants a good time and nothing more. I don’t want to live my life in a permanent state of limbo. It’s too painful. Leaving him was the right thing to do. I’d just fall deeper and one day he’d tire of me and move on to his next playmate.

I pick myself up and peek through the peephole. Ben is gone. Breathing a sigh of relief, I open the door to see if the neighbors are looking to have me evicted. Upon opening the door, I see Ben slumped against the wall next to my apartment door… passed out cold. His hair is a tousled mess, his clothes are wrinkled, and he stinks of scotch. Jeez, he reeks of scotch. How much did he drink? I sigh dejectedly.

 I look down at this drunken mess of a man in front of me and all I can think is…I love him so much. What the fuck is wrong with me? Against my better judgment, I try to wake him.

“Ben, wake up.” I gently shake him.

He grumbles something unintelligible and slumps over.
Crap. Crapity Crap.
Should I just leave him here? Yes, I should, the inebriated idiot, but I know if I don’t move him one of my neighbors will call the cops on the drunk sleeping it off in the hallway. I groan to myself, knowing what I have to do.

“Come on, Ben. Let’s get you inside.” I shake him a little harder; he opens his eyes and looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy. He looks so sad, like a lost little boy. It breaks my heart. I hold out my hand and he grabs mine. With all my strength, I pull him off the floor. He’s so out of it; it’s like pulling ten tons of dead weight. He’s unstable on his feet and his shoulder slams into the wall.  
That’s going to hurt tomorrow.
“Here, support yourself on me. I grab his arm and wrap it around my shoulder then put my arm around his waist. He’s wobbling all over the place. I’m praying he doesn’t take us both down to the ground.

“You are sooooo beautiful,” he slurs.

“You’re drunk.”

“A little.” He winks as he stumbles across the floor.

A little? He smells like he bathed in an oak barrel at the distillery.

We reach the couch and I let him go. He plops on the couch like a rag doll and lies down. I carefully take off his socks and shoes. He so out of it, he hardly moves.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know,” he mumbles.

I hate drunks. They babble on and you have no idea what they’re talking about. He’s probably having an imaginary conversation with me in his head right now. I cover him with a folded crocheted blanket sitting on my armchair. He’s already unconscious. Maybe I should place a pot on the floor by the couch, in case he gets sick.

I stare down at the drunken mess sprawled out in front of me. I’m angry with myself for still loving him. I think back to all the reasons I fell in love with him; the way he made me laugh, his stupid coins, his love for his family, our quiet moments, how he made me feel beautiful. I hate him. I hate me. I bend down, run my fingers through his hair and press my lips against his forehead, lightly kissing him. I’ve missed this… the soft feel of his hair, the warmth of his skin against mine…Him. Just when I think my heart can’t break anymore, it does. Being this close to him kills me a little more inside.

I turn to walk to my bedroom, exhausted from tonight. As I’m leaving I hear Ben turning on the couch.

“Where is he?” he slurs.

I stop and face the couch. “Who?”

“The guy you’re fucking,” he sputters angrily.

I roll my eyes. Now I know the reason for this late night visit. “Go to sleep, Ben.” I shake my head and walk back toward my bedroom.

“I love you,” he mumbles softly.

Did he just say…?

I turn around to look at him. He’s out cold. I know what I heard. I know I didn’t imagine it. I walk back over to the armchair facing the couch and sit, staring at this passed out mess of a man. He loves me? Was that him or the alcohol talking? Will he even remember he said it in the morning?

Fuck you, Ben. Just when I think I can’t get any more confused, he throws this at me. He loves me; at least the intoxicated version of Ben loves me. But the sober one, the one that counts, doesn’t want me for anything more than a good time in the sack.

I know this drunken confession should make me happy, but it doesn’t. It makes me angry and sad. I’ve poured my heart out to this man and he just sat there silently and said nothing. Not a damned thing. He let me go. He watched me leave as my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Allie loves the toaster, the lamp post, the taxi driver, everybody and anybody when she’s this smashed too. It’s the words of a drunk and they’re meaningless. Our relationship, the sex… all meaningless. I was too blinded by my feelings for him to see it clearly.

~o0o~

I wake up with a jolt as my elbow slips off the armrest of the chair I slept on last night. Ben is still unconscious on the couch. I feel like shit from the two hours of sleep I got. I quietly watch him sleep. I hate that I miss him. I hate that all I want to do is join him on that couch and snuggle in close to him, to feel him, to love him.

After about twenty minutes of sitting here nervously bouncing my knee up and down, Ben begins to stir. My stomach has once again relocated to my throat. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know if I have anything
to
say. He slowly opens his eyes and blinks a few times, then swings himself around and sits up. He places his elbows on his knees and rubs his face in his hands. Running his fingers through his hair, he looks at me with glassy, bloodshot eyes. He looks dazed, disheveled, confused, and absolutely beautiful.

Our eyes meet, but we say nothing.

I stand up from my chair and silently walk to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and two Advil. I set them on the coffee table in front of the couch and sit back down on the chair, looking at Ben. His eyes nervously look toward the window, he winces at the sunlight.

Good, he’s hungover. Serves him right, the drunken idiot.

“How did I get here?” he asks softly, rubbing his shoulder. Yeah, I figured that would hurt.

“You were pounding on my door, making a scene. I found you passed out in the hallway.”

“What did I say?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.” He shakes his head and cringes. That must be some headache he has.

“You just rambled on and wanted me to open the door.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, staring down at his feet.

“Sorry for what?”

“Making a scene.”

I nod. “How do you feel?” I ask.

“Shitty,” he grumbles.

“You look it.”

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically.

There’s an awkward silence. I decide to break the ice. “Well, I guess you should be going.”  

“Do you have …company here?” he asks, glancing anxiously toward my bedroom. He must think Pierce is here.

“No, we’re alone.”

He nods, looking relieved. “Julia…,” he breathes.

I hold up my hand to stop him.

“Ben, I think we’ve said all we have to say to each other. Unless you have something new to add, it’s time for you to go.”

He sighs, resigned. I guess last night’s confessional was exactly what I thought, a drunken rambling. Meaningless.

“Do you hate me?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” I answer honestly.

“I miss you, Julia,” he says quietly.

“I miss you too. Please leave.”

He stares down at the floor, turning his head to the side as he rakes his fingers through his hair. He exhales a long breath and looks up at me. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Who?”

“That guy you were with last night.”

I sigh and ignore the question.

“Are you sleeping with him?” he asks.

“That’s none of your business. I’m taking a shower. Go home, Ben. I can’t do this anymore. You know where the door is. Besides, I’m sure Camille is wondering where you are,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Why would she wonder?” He frowns.

I tilt my head and purse my lips.
Why do you think, you idiot?
The look of disgust on my face apparently gave away exactly what I was thinking, as Ben’s eyes widen. “Camille is just a friend,” he says, shaking his head.

“So was I. I know what you do with your
friends
.”

“It’s not like that,” he says emphatically.

“What you do in your personal life has nothing to do with me anymore. You’re a grown man. You don’t owe me explanations; you don’t owe me anything. We want different things. Let’s just leave it at that and move on with our lives.” I sigh. “I have asked you nicely, now I’m telling you. Go home, Ben. Please. Just go.”

He nods solemnly, looking defeated. He bends down to pick his shoes and socks up off the floor. I know if I watch him walk out my door, it’ll break me. It’s taking all the strength I have not to hold him right now, tell him I was wrong and never let him go.

“I’m going to take a shower. Please lock the door on your way out.” I stand up from my chair, fighting the urge to jump into his arms and tell him I’ll wait for him to love me, that I love him enough for the both of us.

“I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore,” he says sadly, his voice low.

I nod, biting down on my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Using all the strength I can gather, I turn around and walk toward the bathroom.

“Julia?”

I turn to look at him.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says softly.

“I know,” I whisper, barely able to get out the words. I turn back around and walk into my bathroom. I turn the shower on as I sit on the bathroom floor; my face buried in my hands with the noise of the water masking the sounds of my sobs as my body heaves uncontrollably.

Chapter 20

After my shower, I peek out of the bathroom to see if Ben is still in the apartment. Thankfully, he left. I don’t have the strength to talk to him anymore. I’m tired of feeling beaten down.

With a towel wrapped around my wet hair, I walk out from the bathroom in my blue terrycloth robe and head to the kitchen for a bottle of water. I need to rehydrate from all my crying.

The apartment door flings open and Allie dances through. Obviously she and Vince had a very good night. “Good morning,” she chirps as she glides into the kitchen. She stops in her tracks and stares at me. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. What are you talking about?”

“Your eyes are puffy and red. You’ve been crying. Why are you upset? Does this have anything to do with you leaving the club last night?”

I look down to the floor and nod, holding back my tears. I honestly don’t know if I have any more tears to cry.

“Oh Julia, what happened? Vince said Pierce took you home. Did he do something to you?”

“No. Nothing like that.” I shake my head.

“It’s
him
again, isn’t it?” Her voice is laced with anger.

“Yes,” I answer softly. “He was there…at Sinful…with
her
.”

“Shit. Did he talk to you?”

“He wanted to, but no. I didn’t give him the opportunity. He tried to find me on the dance floor. I knew I had to go.”

“Weren’t you curious to hear what he had to say?”

“I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. I didn’t want to see him, especially since he had that bitch with him. So I left. Pierce saw what was happening, which is why he made sure I got home.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, he’s a stand-up guy. Too bad there’s not more like him out there. I…I invited him in,” I stutter, biting my thumbnail.

“You did? Did you…?”

“No. He turned down my invitation. Said I was vulnerable and didn’t want to take advantage of me.”