Three Stages of Love: Attraction (18 page)

Two weeks in and I was tired—bored is more like it. I had perfectly adorned almost every square inch of the house. It was tasteful and elegant, but warm and inviting. But I was done. I hadn’t worked or spoken to Marcus since we had arrived. My parents heard the usual
it’s great here
speech when I made my daily call to them, and there was nothing else left for me to do.

The uneasiness and anxiousness I felt about the worth of how I spent my time began to eat away at me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sleep chose not to grace my presence, though my heavy lids begged for rest while Alexander slept soundly beside me.

I don’t know how he slept when he was alone, but while in bed with me, he entwined my body with his in an unusual loop that we probably couldn’t have achieved had we purposely tried to.

Tossing and turning, I hoped to find a position that felt comfortable enough to lead me to slumber. But it didn’t exist.

Alexander mumbled something in his sleep in what didn’t sound like English, all while squeezing me tighter in his hold. But I realized that it was my constant movement and lack of sleep that was making him stir. So I decided to slide—literally—on to the floor to escape his heavy embrace.

I walked downstairs with no actual desire to be there. Each step was long and dragging, but there was really not much else for me to do at this hour of the night when I could not sleep.

Reaching the living room, I turned on the fireplace with the remote and tiredly headed for the kitchen for something warm and soothing. You would think I would have chosen some warm milk, but no; I made a fresh pot of coffee.

I sat and stared out the window as the percolating noise from the coffeemaker echoed in the room around me; but it might as well have been silent, because I could not hear a thing. My body aching and my mind tired, I sat stale and vacant.

When the coffee machine beeped to alert me that its product was ready to be consumed, I almost leapt off of the bar stool near the counter, practically sprinting to get my coffee. I’ve always had a theory: either you are awake or asleep—there is no in between. And since I couldn’t sleep, I needed to wake myself up.

Curling up into the corner of the L-shaped leather couch, I positioned myself cozily by the fire. But it wasn’t until I was out of my first cup of coffee that my thoughts were awakened.
Better go fill it up
, I thought.

I could have sworn that half the night had passed me by, but it had only been a half hour since I had gotten out of bed. And it was still only midnight.

Stress insomnia was a common experience for me. When my schedule was on overload or my task list was endless, I would stay awake until something either gave in or gave out. Usually I would spend days with little sleep until the bulk of my load was accomplished, and then I would give into sleep—willingly! But, when there was nothing to accomplish but the annoyance of issues going on in my head, I called Samantha!

I hadn’t spoken to Samantha in a month, and the canyon of regret that had dug its way into my heart was barren and desperate to be filled. There were few people in the world with the heart and love that made up Samantha, and I before then I had never known what I had. Because she was always there for me; I was never alone or friendless with Samantha in my life—till now.

The phone rang in my hands.

I had, while thinking of Samantha, dialed her number.

“Eva?” she shouted into the phone.

Tears escaped my burning eyes and dripped onto my sweater in a constant flow; I was paralyzed from the mouth down.

“Eva, I’m here. Stop crying, and let me hear your voice. You don’t have to say anything but hello.” Her voice cracked from the obvious emotions that we shed through the twenty-four hundred plus mile distance.

But she wasn’t far. She was there, filling my heart.

“I love you, Samantha, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me for being the intolerable bitch I am,” I sobbed.

“Stop it now. I forgave you seconds after you told me to fuck off. And I don’t care how intolerable of a bitch you are. You are my favorite and best intolerable bitch friend; do you hear me?” Samantha couldn’t contain her cracking voice as she began to sob along with me. “Now—and there is no room for bullshit here—what’s bothering you and keeping you from sleeping? And how many cups of coffee have you had?” she asked, having read me telepathically.

And there was a giggle. Samantha had a gift and that was to brighten my days—and nights when needed.

“Ugh, Samantha, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you. For the first time in my life, I feel so alone.”

“Where is Alexander?” she questioned with concern.

“Oh, it hasn’t anything to do with him. He’s asleep. I came downstairs so I wouldn’t wake him. He has been amazing, Samantha; I can’t say a single negative thing about him. I’m starting to think that Disney modeled Prince Charming after Alexander,” I replied.

“Well…” Samantha took a breath. “It actually took you longer than I expected to get bored. What does Alexander think?” she asked with the exact insight I needed. She knew me well and could clock me with an egg timer.

“I haven’t talked to Alexander about it yet. It just started to really set in today. He’s been keeping me busy with sightseeing and shopping. I never thought I would say this but: I hate shopping!” I blurted through my anxiety.

Samantha gasped, “Bite your tongue, young lady. Never say that out loud, and never say it to a man!” She followed up with a giggle. “But if you’re serious, you can ship all your Manolos to Five Forty-Three West—”

The laughter between us had been missed for so long, but it never faltered. We picked up right where we left off—me crying and Samantha consoling me.

“OK—OK, I don’t hate it that much!” I pronounced. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved being able to pick out things for the house and make it warm and cozy for us. And the
money is no object
outlook that Alexander has embraced is light-years beyond my wildest dreams. But, it’s fading fast.” Sighing as I filled my coffee cup for the fourth time, I sauntered back to the couch and the fireplace. “Samantha, I have nothing here. I haven’t worked in weeks. I miss having an intelligent conversation about the world and business with people other than Alexander, who argues with me just so we can have make-up sex after the casual sex. I feel useless and—”

“What is it, Eva? What’s the burning issue that you’re not sharing?” Samantha pried.

“I don’t have any friends here. I mean, I tell Alexander everything, but it’s not the same. If I want to brag about the massive orgasm I had this morning at breakfast, I can’t tell it to Alexander. He knows—he was there! I just miss…you and my mom and work!” I blubbered.

“I know Alexander wants to keep you all to himself but…hasn’t he introduced you around? Or have you two been hiding in the love shack all the hours of the day when you are not out shopping?” Samantha asked genuinely.

I repositioned myself upright, as Samantha had hit a nerve. Not with her personally, but she reminded me to tell her about the clones I had been introduced to. “Oh, thank God you said that,” I said with lungs full of air. “You have no idea, Samantha. These women—or I should say most of these women, because I liked a few of them—are
90210
acting, plastic Stepford wives with nothing to do but cheat on their husbands and stab their friends in the back.”

Samantha coughed into the phone. “Who the hell is Alexander friends with, and when will the episodes air on
Jerry Springer
?”

“It’s no joke. They are completely content with the gym and shopping as their workday, and then spending the night talking about who looked fat at the gym and what they bought while shopping.
And then
when they have
free time
, they go to dinner only to pretend they are all friends and to show each other how much more expensive one’s outfit is versus the other.” I inhaled, preparing for the next rant. “My first dinner with these women, and I asked Alexander to never have dinner with them again. You know I can be as bitchy as anyone out there, if not more, but these people are malicious and vile.”

“OK, let’s calm down, my dear Eva. I think more than anything you are suffering from Samanthitis—you’ve missed me is all. Look, I’m sure the people out there are a little different from New York City, but so are the people in Upstate New York, and you don’t loathe them, right?” Samantha asked the rhetorical question as she tried to calm me down.

“I’m just bored, Samantha,” I blurted, feeling the piercing in my lungs as I failed to take a deep enough breath. “I miss feeling like I achieve something in my day. The truth is all the cooking and cleaning and decorating and
shopping
just aren’t enough. It feels good to succeed at more than just finding the sold-out
Lui
bag when no one else can. I can’t forget the feeling of empowerment when I stood in a room with CEOs from around the world. I felt part of something bigger. Now, I don’t feel part of enough.”

Samantha remained quiet.

“I’m sorry to dump this on you. I’m such a shit. This was supposed to be an apology call and not a woe-is-me call,” I said feeling badly for the depression I pulled Samantha into.

“Enough already. Look, you have to expect that you will have some withdrawal from your family and friends, but it will pass in time. Right now, the best advice I can give you is that you must tell Alexander how you feel and figure it out together.” And again, Samantha was the voice of reality and reason.

I held my head up on my palm and sighed. “You are right, Samantha. I do need to talk this through with Alexander. I just don’t want to seem ungrateful or…like I’m hurting him again.”

A voice over my shoulder said, “And what exactly do you think it feels like to know that you aren’t talking to me about what’s bothering you?”

I jumped out of my skin, dropping the phone on the carpet as I spun to find Alexander behind me, leaning on the counter.

“Hello…hello…” I heard coming up from the floor.

“Alexander, I—” I exclaimed.

“Pick up whoever it is you dropped on the floor, and then we’ll talk.” He walked over to the coffee pot and poured him self a cup of coffee—black—like his mood at the moment.

I leaned over to pick up the phone I had dropped as Samantha continued to scream hello on the other end. “I’m sorry. Alexander startled me. Maybe it’s better if I call you tomorrow, Samantha.”

“That’s Samantha?” Alexander asked, shocked by the thought.

“Yes it is,” I confirmed.

“Like, Samantha from New York? Marcus’s Samantha?” he asked again.

“Yeah, they are one and the same, unless she moves or leaves Marcus, of course,” I confirmed again.

Walking toward me, Alexander held out his hand, “Why didn’t you say so? I’m so glad you two are talking. Hey, let me say hello.”

Handing the phone over, I fell onto the armrest of the couch, utterly befuddled by the first reaction and then the second reaction. I was lost in the transition.

“Hello, doll. How are you treating my little brother?” Alexander chuckled into the phone at Samantha. “Great, I’m glad,” he continued. “Well, good. Serves him right. Hey listen. Tell Marcus to give me a call tomorrow. I think it’s about time you two come out to LA and pay us a visit.”

Samantha must have been responding, as Alexander quieted and uttered several “Uh-huh”s.

“OK, I’ll tell her. Night.” And he hung up the phone.

“She said she had to go but would call you back tomorrow morning. Obviously so you two can talk without me eavesdropping.” He went back to his cup of coffee and headed for the hallway to the upstairs.

“Alexander, wait,” I beseeched him. After all, my mother always taught me that you should never go to bed angry if you can avoid it.

“Look, I am so unbelievably happy that you decided to call Samantha. And there are only two reasons why I got upset. One is because I wasn’t sure who you were talking to at this hour of the night. And two: I can’t make you talk to me. I’ve told you before: I’m not a mind reader, and I can’t guess all the thoughts that go through that overactive mind of yours. I sensed that you were feeling down when you missed my cue to come into the shower with me today and when you barely touched your dinner. But I can’t pry things out of you. Now, I will be upstairs in bed sipping my coffee—thank you by the way—and if you feel like you would like to take the weight of the elephant off of your shoulders, you know where to find me.”

Alexander turned and headed for the stairs. And knowing he had heard my discussion with Samantha, I knew I had to explain. So I quickly followed and fell into step with him all the way to our bedroom.

Propping all of the pillows up against the giant headboard, Alexander got into bed and folded my side of the blanket over for me to join him.

I nestled beside him and clasped my hands into my lap.

“I haven’t scolded or reprimanded you. I just told you how
I felt
,” Alexander whispered and sipped his coffee.

I perched myself onto one side and leaned onto his chest. “I didn’t want to upset you after all you have been trying to do for me. But I guess now that has gone out the window. I do miss Sam and my parents and work and my life. But I also am completely and utterly immersed in all of my time with you, and I am taking pleasure in every minute.” Clasping his hands in mine, I admitted, “I feel like I’ve been shut out from the world. Back in New York, every day presented a new challenge or accomplishment. I basked in the glory of success and youth and womanhood. And now I feel like I’ve dropped everything to be…a housewife with no friends.”

Alexander couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are so hard on yourself. Why is this different than taking a vacation? Can’t you just pretend that you are on vacation?”

“But it isn’t a vacation, and you still haven’t even alluded to how long this pretend vacation will last,” I retaliated.

“I know. Just a little more time, and I promise we will do more than just shop and decorate. I know I can convince Marcus and Sam to take some time to come visit, and that will help break things up a bit. In the meantime, I need you to push aside your insecurities and spend sometime with people. I know you aren’t fond of the people you have met, but everyone has an off day here and there. Tom has invited us every day this week to do something—and I’ve made up excuse after excuse as to why we couldn’t join them. It’s also not good for my business for me to be so closed off and invisible to people.”