Page 2 of Bryce

“Catherine hasbeen relying on someone else for her entire life.” She took asip of tea to wet her suddenly parched throat.

Conversations withher mother always agitated her and that had never changed, despitethe fact that she was a grown-ass thirty-two-year-old woman and hadmoved several hundred miles away. It was still the same argument.Zahra had deserted her.

And after she hadstayed when that no-good man had left them after ruining their liveswith his drinking. On top of that, he had died of a heart attackwhile having sex in some sleazy motel with a girl who was barelylegal. The shame of that was always with her.

Her career wasruined, and her only child did not care. Notwithstanding the factthat Zahra had suffered significantly from a very traumaticupbringing.

“She’snot planning on visiting, is she?”

“Mother wouldnot be caught dead in a small town. Thank God!” She said with aheartfelt sigh.

“She was tryingto guilt you in going back.”

“Which willnever happen.” Turning her head, she gazed out at the sunlightshimmering on the flowers she had planted with her own hands. FlowerHills had healed her, somewhat. The tiny town had done what years oftherapy had failed to do.

The place had broughther peace and tranquility. The nightmares had stopped coming sofrequently. She had spent almost her entire life trying to competefor her dad’s attention, desperate to get him to love her.

She remembered ahandsome and charming man who was like a shadow. He would come homedrunk and loud, bellowing for his ‘two girls’ and therewould be a fight between him and her mother.

Chaos had reined inher house and left her shattered, longing for some sort of peace.Even when he had died, that peace she sought was not forthcoming. Noteven when she moved out after college.

The inheritance fromher aunt had come at a time when she was wondering what the hell shewas going to do with the rest of her life. Now she had found herpurpose.

Drawing on that, shepushed away the sadness and smiled. “I am fine. Now I have togo upstairs and see to straightening up the place. We’reexpecting some more people tomorrow. Thanks, Jess.”

“Anytime.”

*****

Bryce stirred slowlyand opened his eyes, each movement careful and precise. His head waspounding, and his mouth was chalk dry. Raising his head an inch at atime, he peered around the still darkened room, a frown touching hisbrow. This certainly was not his bedroom at the loft.

There were no heavyburgundy drapes at his windows - in fact, there were no drapes atall. Turning his head to the left, he stared at the naked womancurled up into a fetal ball, red hair spilling over the pillows. Hewas in some woman’s apartment? House? Christ!

Even thinking wasgiving him a bloody headache. Memories came flooding back and madehis headache even more. He was sure that someone or something wasdriving spikes into his brain.

It was his co-starand after wrapping the latest scene, she had suggested they come backto her place for a celebratory drink. Which had apparently turnedinto a drinking binge and meaningless sex.

Christ! Sitting upagainst the padded headboard, he assessed his situation. This wasgetting to him.

Bryce shook his headslightly, trying to clear the fog. He had to get out of here. Slowly,he climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping womanbeside him.

As he searched forhis clothes, fragments of last night's events started to piecetogether. He recalled the laughter, the clinking of glasses, thesense of escapism that had led him to this disorienting morning.

Finding his jeansdraped over a chair, he slipped them on and continued his search forhis shirt and shoes. His thoughts were a muddled mess of regret andresignation. This wasn’t the first time he had found himself insuch a situation, and he feared it wouldn’t be the last.

Once dressed, Brycepaused for a moment, glancing at the red-haired woman one last time.She seemed familiar yet distant, a reflection of his own fragmentedlife. With a sigh, he quietly exited the room, the door clickingsoftly behind him.

As he stepped intothe hallway, he vowed to himself that he would find a way to breakthis cycle of reckless behavior and find a semblance of stability.

As he descended thestairs, Bryce's mind was a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts. The echoesof last night’s indiscretions reverberated through hisconsciousness, causing his headache to intensify with every step.

The stark contrastbetween the life he portrayed on screen and the reality he livedstruck him hard - one was a gilded cage of glamour, while the otherwas a chasm of uncertainty.

Reaching the bottomof the stairs, Bryce slipped out of the building cautiously, hopingto avoid any chance encounters. The cold morning air hit his face,bringing a mild sense of relief. He took a deep breath, the chillcutting through the remnants of alcohol in his veins. The city,barely awake, seemed indifferent to his inner turmoil.

In the car, Bryceleaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a brief moment.The silence was both oppressive and calming, a strange respite fromthe chaos of his thoughts.

He began to drive,navigating the empty streets with a mechanical precision that beliedhis sluggish mind. The familiar route to his loft felt surreal, as ifhe were watching someone else’s life unfold before him.

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