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Living, but not really.
Do you see that guy standing in the bar staring at the rows of alcohol in front of him? If he could just get out of his own head for a minute, he’d realize what that was with her. Her apology, but he can’t. That guy just wants to say, no, you don’t get this. He doesn’t want to play these games any longer because though you see this conversation, you’re completely unaware of everything that’s happened in between. The constant need for her to test my loyalty to her. And I’ll be the first to admit that given my lifestyle, it hasn’t been great, but it’s not nonexistent.
“I’m worried about Shade,” Ricky says, drawing me from my thoughts.
I can understand Ricky’s concern. Shade’s longtime friend, Rhya, killed herself. Since then, he hasn’t been the same.
“You should be worried about Tiller,” I smart off with, glaring at my younger, careless brother who’s destroyed my life.
“Don’t kill him,” Ricky jokes.
“I could plead temporary insanity,” I tell him, serious. “A judge would let me off.”
He laughs and looks to Scarlet, the new assistant they hired to replace Willa while she’s on maternity leave. “She’s a trip.”
I snort. “I’ll say.”
“What’s wrong with Ophelia?” Ricky asks as I begin to make a drink.
I shrug one shoulder, my eyes on Scarlet. No way she’s making it past this weekend in Paris. “I don’t know.”
His shakes his head. Look at his face. He knows and he’s disappointed in me. Wouldn’t be the first, more than likely not the last. “Roan, I warned you not to get involved with her.”
I try to play it off and keep my eyes on the drink. I sigh, shake my head and relax, my body at ease, my mind anything but that. “I’m not involved.”
“I know you are, and I know what’s going on between you and Tiller. You two need to knock this shit off. You can’t represent USAifyou kill your brother.”
He has a point, but I’m still not over the idea that killing him wouldn’t be rewarding.
I push past him and offer the new assistant a drink. She’s hot, wild blonde hair, blue eyes, and completely unlike the green-eyed shy rebel girl who holds my heart. I lose interest quickly, and even if she had taken me up on the offer, I probably would have made some sort of excuse as to why I couldn’t close the deal.
Why would I do that?
You didn’t really think I slept with that chick in Athens, did you? As far as Tiller knows, yeah, I did, but the truth is hidden under loyalty, and I refuse to right the situation because it’s not mine to right at the moment.
I spend the rest of the night drunk, naked in the pool and eventually find myself in my monochromatic room, alone. I stare at the black ceiling wishing I hadn’t painted the room so dark. Maybe I need some lightness in my life. But then again, the dark fits my mood lately so I might as well leave it.
I can close my eyes and picture the day I stopped seeing Ophelia Valentina Hadley as a kid, to something more. I still don’t quite understand what the more part is, but, whatever. I suppose now, it doesn’t fucking matter much, does it?
I text her around three in the morning, but she doesn’t answer.
Frustration pulses through my veins. I should tell her the truth. I want to, but I can’t. This lie, I intend to keep it to protect the loyalty of a man who has only ever had my best interest in mind. A man who has very nearly became a father to me.
Had I known Ophelia would react this way, would I have made the same choice?
Yeah, I probably would have.
I remember her at ten, cute, innocent, sweet, looking up to me like I hung the goddamn moon. Then I blinked and she was fourteen, on the verge of so much more, wanting my attention, striving to be desired in ways she clearly didn’t understand yet. At seventeen, I touched her for the first time with intention. Meaning. I knew from that first time, when my lips touched her delicate ones, I’d forever be wrapped around her in ways that now I clearly didn’t understand. In that instant, everything about her was pure, simple, yet profound. It was as if the universe had opened up and demanded I be present. And I was. I’m not even sure I can accurately describe the connection I had with her, despite her age, but in those moments, I truly opened up to her. And never again.
I stare at that ceiling for another hour. Just as the sun starts to peek over the hills, I’m tortured with the idea that she might be gone from my life forever and strangely, relieved.
I know one thing, heading to Florida next month is looking better every day. I need to get out of here. I’m functional, but frozen. I’m riding, but empty.
There’s this movie. A 1975 cult movie starring Peter Weir. In it, a quote. “Wherever you go, there you are.”
What the fuck does that mean?
You are the constant in every life situation you had or will have. It means, if you can’t change, change your situation.